Hogwarts Gets Wild!
by Machiavella of Kingsport
Summary: It's Harry's fifth year, but things are turning upside-down for EVERYONE...new romances, new pranks, new people, and more importantly, a new chapter!
1. Default Chapter

Harry Potter

Machiavella of Kingsport

Title: Hogwarts Gets Wild!

Summary: It's fifth year: Harry has insane lusts for Cho as well as the new fifth year girl, Ron is still madly jealous of Hermione and Krum, there are some _INTERESTING_ adventures in the Inter-House Quidditch Cup, and Draco has moral struggles with daddy. Meanwhile, the whole of the fifth year has become a bunch of party animals!

Rating: R

Disclaimers: You know whose are J.K. Rowling's, Lola Fernandez is mine, and there are a couple of songs from Andrew Lloyd Weber's 'The Phantom of the Opera'.

Chapter 1: Back to Hogwarts 

            "Agh! I swear, there isn't a single empty compartment on this blasted train!" Ron bellowed, his face crimson. "And the only on with space has _Malfoy _in it!"

            "Eurgh…" Hermione and Harry both shuddered at the thought.

            "The only minor plus is that Crabbe and Goyle weren't sitting with him," Harry muttered, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "It seems there's no other choice…"

            "No! I _refuse_ to sit next to that Death-Eater scumbag!" Ron exploded, pounding his fist into his thigh.

            "Looks like we have to—we can't very well lounge on the floor to get tripped over," Hermione sighed resignedly.

            When Ron glared at her fiercely, Harry added, "Ron, Hermione's right."

            "Oh yeah, you're prepared to listen to a girl who went out with that evil Bulgarian Quidditch player…"

            Hermione flushed angrily. "Oh, don't you talk about Viktor that way! Viktor's very nice, I'll have you know, he doesn't like to have anything to do with the Dark Arts!"

            Ron looked about to say something, but he stopped himself, and mumbled, fuming, "Fine! _You_ two can go, _I'll_ stay in the hall, _thank you very much_," he added nastily as Harry and Hermione turned to go down the hall to the front of the train. Ron snatched a corned beef sandwich from his rucksack and tore ferociously into it.

            "Ugh! Can you believe the _nerve_ of him!" Hermione exclaimed. "Really! The way he goes on about Krum, when he's even got his autograph, you'd think he was jealous!"

            Harry coughed. "Well, it's quite possible he _is_ jealous," He adjusted the straps on his bag.

            "I AM _NOT_ JEALOUS OF THAT STUPID KRUM!" Ron thundered from the end of the hall. "Tunnel of sound, you know, I can hear everything you say from here!"

            Hermione and Harry shook their heads ruefully as they neared the front of the train. "Try to deny it though he may…"

            "_Tunnel of sound!"_

            They erupted into laughter just when they reached Malfoy's compartment. Harry knocked tentatively at the door. It slid open, and then immediately shut halfway before Harry wedged himself between it and the door casing.

            "Just what do you think you're doing, _Potter?_" Draco jeered.

            "We have nowhere else to sit, Malfoy," Hermione snapped, her hands planted firmly on her hips.

            "Tough luck, mudblood wench. I'm _not_ sitting with a half-muggle and the nasty person who got two of my friends expelled!"

            "Your cronies, you mean? Which?" Hermione asked curiously, though through clenched teeth.

            "None of your business, now, is it, beaver teeth?" Draco sneered. "But in any case, it was Crabbe and Goyle."

            Hermione's eyebrows went so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline. "Goyle and Crabbe? Harry, how'd you do it—how come you never told me?"

            Harry sighed, and muttered, "Dumbledore told me not to tell anyone…"

            "But you can tell me!" Hermione implored, ignoring Draco who also seemed to be curious about how the two boys were expelled. "And plus, Malfoy would know, wouldn't he, since he knows them?"

            Draco coughed, and glared at Hermione, who had turned back to face him. "I'd be interested in knowing how, too, Potter," he said, his voice ugly and threatening. "Pray let me in on the secret," he drawled.

            Harry sighed and looked at the floor, and mumbled, "They were Death-Eaters."

            For a bare second Draco's sneer vanished, and in its place was an expression of clear astonishment. But then it dissolved and he was back to his normal state. 'Well, no shit, Sherlock," Draco replied with a slight tremor in his voice, as though he had known it already.

            "So can we sit down?" Harry asked through a firmly clenched jaw.

            "Don't bother me," Draco replied irritably, making an impatient gesture for Harry and Hermione to enter the compartment, and Harry slid the door shut behind them.

            Hours passed; however much Harry persuaded Hermione to play exploding snap, she insisted on reading her new textbooks for school. So he sat twiddling his thumbs, glancing every few minutes at Draco, who was sitting in a corner as far away as possible, reading a book as well. When the food cart came rattling by, Harry jumped up immediately and purchased four cauldron cakes for his rumbling stomach. As he sat back down, shutting his moneybag away in his rucksack, Hermione suddenly closed her book with a snap.

            "My money is all shut away in my trunk, Harry, and I'm fairly starving. I don't mean to sound like a mooch, but could I have one of those cauldron cakes?"

            "Sure. I didn't think I could eat them all, anyway," Harry lied, handing her one. He noted that Draco was also eyeing the three cakes that were left, but he said nothing, only curled up into a tight ball and continued to read. Harry, who had finished his first cake and was working on his second, couldn't help feeling the slightest bit sympathetic. He spent the next half hour studying the remaining cake and contemplating whether or not to give it to Draco when he realized all at once he wouldn't be able to eat it anyway because he was full. He set the cake quietly next to Draco on the seat opposite seat, and Draco, staring at him coldly and warily, took it wordlessly and ate it as he read.

            Sighing with boredom, Harry took out his own book, "The Phantom of the Opera", and began to read as well. The scenery outside the window slowly changed from open moor to rocky bluff and forest as night approached.

            The voice that growled "First years, this way," at Hogsmeade Station was surprisingly not Hagrid's, but instead it belonged to Argus Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker.

            "Hermione, isn't it odd? I wonder where Hagrid is…"

            "He must be off with Madame Maxime, on that assignment Dumbledore had for them at the end of last school year…"

            "Oh, I wouldn't worry where that great giant oaf has gone off to. We're all better off without him," Draco sneered nastily, uttering the first words since he had let Harry and Hermione into the compartment. Instead of branching off to another carriage, like he normally would have, he walked with them and boarded in the same one. Ron, who had made a move as though to join them, recoiled and chose a different carriage after seeing that Draco was with them. Harry eyed him oddly.

            "Aren't you, um, going to go in another one?" Harry inquired, trying not to sound too nasty. Draco glared at him and didn't answer, just leaned against the window and pretended to doze off as the carriage rattled and bumped its way to the castle.

            Entering through the great wooden double doors, Harry took off his hat and fanned himself. The weather was still surprisingly humid and warm for the beginning of September. Draco finally joined the rest of the Slytherins as the throng made its way to the dining hall, and Ron, found Harry and Hermione, but refused to talk to them.

            "Great goblins, I'm starving," Harry remarked, his stomach growling. The effects of his two cauldron cakes had long since worn off, and just sitting down at the Gryffindor table in the massive, immense dining hall made him hungry.

            "Patience, we've still got sorting," Hermione reminded him as the sorting hat began to sing.

I am the sorting hat, you know 

_Created many years ago_

_To give each student here a home_

_Their special abilities they would hone_

_Of the houses there were four_

_Among which was Gryffindor_

_This house was for the great and glorious_

_In Wizard world were the students victorious_

_The second house was Ravenclaw_

_Oh, many brilliant wizards it saw_

_This house was for the shrewd and clever_

_Not for slackers or squibs, never_

_The third of the houses was Hufflepuff_

_Magical ability was never enough_

_They had to be gracious, warm, and kind_

_Putting all their differences behind_

_The last and fourth was Slytherin_

_The great and powerful it welcomed in_

_All these wizards earned great glory_

_Though some reputations were a bit gory_

_But anyhow you've heard my song_

_Put me on, I'll tell where you belong!_

            The hall rang with applause; the line of apprehensive first-years, however, remained silent and quietly waited to be sorted. Harry, deafened by his want of food to fill his stomach, hardly heard the half of it. Across from him, Hermione, and Ron were the Weasley twins, Fred and George, who clapped loudly and enthusiastically as 'Ellys, Caena' was sorted into Gryffindor. They patted the tall, blonde girl on the back as she slid in next to them. She thanked them and then eyed Harry curiously.

            "So you're Harry Potter, are you?"

            Harry's eyes jerked up from his empty plate. "Oh! Oh, yeah, I am. Congratulations. For getting Gryffindor, that is," he added, noting the girl's temporary confusion.

            "Thanks! Well, it certainly is an honor meeting you, Harry. Is it true, by the way, that you actually dueled with You Know"—

            Harry cut her off sharply. "I don't mean to be rude or anything, but that's something I'd rather not talk about." A girl slid in next to him on his right as Caena turned to talk to Fred. Harry looked up.

            "Hi! I just got sorted into Gryffindor. My name's Lola," the girl drawled. Her voice was warm, like melted butter. She flicked back a lock of wavy chestnut hair. Harry noted that she looked much older than a typical first-year…

            "I-I'm Harry. Harry Potter. Erm…this is a very stupid question, but how old are you?"

            "I'm fifteen. And I'm not a first-year," she replied, seeing the look of amazement and sudden despair on Harry's face. "I'm a fifth-year. I just transferred from Salem Institute of Magic in New Hampshire, U.S.A." Harry's heart lifted at the news. So she _was okay to flirt with…_

            He noted for the first time Lola's American accent, for he was formerly too busy taking in the view…her even, white-toothed smile, the dimples in her lightly freckled cheeks, and her dancing hazel eyes. _American woman, stay away, Harry thought hungrily, his mouth watering, and then, __No! No! You like Cho Chang! Not this Lola girl! You're too young for lust!_

_            Lola smiled dirtily at him, as if she could read his thoughts. "My last name, by the way, is Fernandez."_

            _LOLA FERNANDEZ! Harry's mind exploded with delight and excitement. __I just met a girl named Lola Fernandez! He hardly noticed that everyone around him was eating, and that he was starving for food. __Lola Fernandez! Lola Fernandez! Girls shouldn't be allowed to be that beautiful!_

_            It wasn't until Hermione handed him the beef and gravy that he realized dinner had arrived. He wiped a small drop of drool off of his chin and served himself some beef. Suddenly he remembered something and turned his attention to Fred and George._

            "Hey guys," he said through a mouthful of meat, "did you ever get started on that joke shop? I plum forgot to ask you over the holidays."

            "We're still working on it. We've been looking around in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley for ideal places, though we won't be able to actually set up shop until we're out of school. Mum finally (and most begrudgingly) gave her permission," George replied. 

            "Yeah," added Fred. "So far we've just been selling little spelled candies and bewitched pies to the students, as you know from last year."

            "Yeah, those Canary Creams were a hit," Harry agreed. "Did you manage to replace all the Ton-Tongue Toffees your mum confiscated?"

            "Nah, we decided they were a little scary for the customers…I mean, look at how terrified your monster of a cousin was when he had one…then again, he's a muggle, he wouldn't expect something like that." Fred chuckled evilly. "It was still bloody hilarious, though."

            "Damn straight," Harry replied, taking a Treacle Tart from a tray in the center of the table.

            "Damn straight? Where'd you find _that expression?" Asked Ron curiously, speaking to him for the first time since the beginning of the train ride._

            "Watched a couple American films…uh, 'Shaft', I think. You know, 'Who's the baddest cop in town? Shaft! You damn straight! You know he's one baaaad motherfucker—shut yo' mouth!'"

            "Uh, right then," Ron said, shaking his head amusedly. "Nutters…"

            Lola giggled. "That was a horrible movie—it was so stupid!"

            Harry blushed—he had thought it was quite good, actually. He said nothing, and just continued to eat until it was time for everyone to go to the dormitories. He was in line behind Lola on the way, and not only was he amazed to find that Lee Jordan was their prefect, but his eyes were also glued fast to Lola's behind. Unconsciously he drooled, and only noticed when he dribbled down the front of his robes. He flushed pink with embarrassment and then, most unthinkingly purred, "Lola, do you even have a _license for that thing?"_

            She turned around, amusement twinkling in her bewitching hazel eyes. Harry put on an innocent face.

            "It was nothing! I swear!"

            "If you say so…" Lola laughed. If her hips swayed any more than before, Harry tried desperately not to notice.

TO BE CONTINUED… 


	2. The Quidditch Tryouts

Hogwarts Gets Wild!

Machiavella of Kingsport

Chapter 2: The Quidditch Tryouts

            The next day, Harry was so tired he slogged his way through every class, and came close to failing a potions review test. (Snape seemed to have increased on the unpleasantness scale to about 9.9 out of 10. Harry suspected it was because he and Sirius, Harry's godfather, had been forced by Dumbledore to become actual allies against Voldemort and the dark side.) Snape passed back his test with a 1-, accompanied by comments:

            _In the future, Mr. Potter, I expect you will keep your head out of the clouds and use your brains in class!—Severus Snape_

            Harry stewed silently as the bell rang and he hurried over to Defense Against the Dark Arts, cursing his Potions professor under his breath. He slid into a seat between Hermione and Ron, saying a rushed greeting to Neville Longbottom, who seemed to have lost a lot of weight over the summer holidays. He was taller and leaner now, and had looks along the line of former Hogwarts student Cedric Diggory. Harry was mildly surprised, but hadn't a chance to say anything before the professor clunked in—Alastor Moody.

            _"Moody?"_ Ron muttered in utter disbelief. "I thought he said he was only teaching for one year!"

            "Guess Dumbledore changed his mind, since Vol—I mean, You-Know-Who—came back," Harry whispered. "Safety precautions and all."

            "Of course…I see why. Logical," Hermione agreed.

            The whispers died down as Moody hobbled his way to his desk.

            "Welcome back," He greeted them. His eyes shifted around the classroom, looking at the faces which he had never had the chance to meet. Last year, a son of a ministry member, Barty Crouch, who was a Death-Eater, had disguised himself as Moody when Moody was hired for the job, and had spent the whole year teaching the students about the three illegal curses. Dumbledore had discovered him one week before the school year ended, the night Voldemort rose again, and a dementor had administered upon Crouch the Kiss of Death. The real Alastor Moody had been found locked up in a chest, and apparently, Dumbledore had hired him for another year. "Since I never had the opportunity to meet any of you, I am going to take roll call, and when I say your name, raise your hand."

            "Brown, Lavender."

            She raised her hand, and also asked a question. "Could you please…um…take out that…that eye? It's…kind of creepy."

            "I'm sorry, Miss Brown, but it is essential that I have it. You will just have to ignore it. Granger, Hermione."

            And down the list he went, finishing with 'Weasley, Ronald'.

            "Today I will be speaking to you about Aurors—Dark Wizard hunters. I will be showing you a number of devices that are used for lie detection, et cetera."

            Harry's mood brightened at the prospect. Having been in the fake Moody's office a couple of times the last year, he had only seen a small number of the detection devices, among which was a giant sneakoscope.

            The class groaned collectively when the bell rang, and everyone talked about the class on their way to the dining hall for lunch.

            "Harry, Ron, I think I've found my dream career!" Hermione stated, grinning. "I want to be an Auror!"

            "Well, bully for you. Put Krum in Azkaban for me, then," Ron muttered through clenched teeth, his face flushed with annoyance. Harry shot him a look.

            "Oh, you shut up about Krum! He's a very kind person!" Hermione snapped, her brows furrowed. "I just don't understand your unholy obsession with having your vengeance upon him. What's he done to you that's so bad?"

            Ron mumbled unintelligibly and stomped to the other end of the table, crimson and fuming. "A bit insane, isn't he, lately," Harry commented as he sat down across from Neville.

            "Tell me about it…" Neville replied. "Just last night in the dorms, he accused me of flirting with you, Hermione, as though he was really jealous or something."

            "Puh—he's seriously got problems," Hermione muttered, blowing a strand of her bushy brown hair out of her face. Lola slid in to the left of Harry.

            "So what'd you think of that Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Harry?"

            He flushed crimson. "Pretty good," he mumbled. "What about you?"

            "Oh, I really liked that mirror. And that sneakoscope. Weird thing. Wicked cool."

            "I've got a sneakoscope in my trunk in the dormitory, but it's smaller. My friend Ron gave it to me a couple Christmases ago."

            Lola spooned some chicken pot pie onto her plate. "Really? I'd _love_ to see it sometime." She, however, based upon the flirty look on her face, looked as though she might be interested in doing other things in Harry's dorm room. Or at least, Harry hoped…he quickly stuffed a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth to disguise the fact that his mouth was still hanging open. Lola continued to talk. "So, wait, Harry—you're the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, right? And the team needs a keeper?"

            "Ayuh," he replied through a mouthful of potato. He swallowed. "Why? Would you like to try out tonight? Because there's no practice after today, until Monday next week."

            "Yeah, I'd be delighted to. Is a Firebolt okay for my broom?" She asked, grinning her huge white smile again.

            "Of course! That's what, I've got, by the way."

            Hermione nudged him. "Harry, is it just me, or did Neville suddenly get cute?" She whispered, grinning devilishly. "Look."

            Harry unglued his eyes from Lola's face and looked across the table where Neville sat. Ginny was most blatantly flirting with him, batting her eyes like he was Hugh Grant. Neville seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it, letting her sit in his lap and staring open-mouthed while she chattered. 

            "So she got over me, I guess," Harry chuckled.

            "It's hilarious! Remember last year, at the Yule Ball, they went together, and Ginny hated every minute of it because people were making fun of her for dancing with a fatso? Now look at her, she's just throwing herself at him! I'll bet Fred and George will torment her for the rest of her life for this…"

            "Neville, you dirty dog, c'mere and let me see that gorgeous smile of yours…" Ginny tousled his hair and flashed him a glamorous grin, and Neville turned scarlet.

            "Oh, Harry, you can't be jealous of him?" Lola turned his attention back to her, pouting. "You're so much more handsome than he is…"

            Harry, elated, made a mental note to look in the mirror that night as Hermione snorted into her beef brisket, and temporarily forgot about Cho Chang, who was narrowing her eyes at him from the next table over.

            Despite the normal hairy, poison-fanged creatures Hagrid usually managed to procure, Harry missed Care of Magical Creatures that afternoon. Malfoy caught up to him in the hallway. "Looks like your giant friend finally came to his wits and quit, Potter," He said nastily. "Missing him already? I'll bet he's forgotten about you and he's off gallivanting with his giant girlfriend from Beauxbatons…"

            "Oh, stuff a sock in it, Malfoy." Harry shoved his way past and stomped up the stairs to the North tower, where he had Divination. He would have given anything, at the moment, to rid the class of the Slytherins, but he couldn't very well complain to Dumbledore about it. Harry was astonished, however, to see his professor Trelawney, and all mutinous thoughts escaped his mind at that moment. 

            Professor Trelawney sat in one of her fat poufs, sipping tea, which was normal of her…but her hair, dyed a most horrid shade of mauve, matched the rest of her pink-and-black costume. "Er, Professor?" Harry said timidly.

            "Yes, my dear?" She seemed to refrain herself from predicting Harry's most dreadful and torturous death at the moment.

            "Not meaning to be offensive, or anything, but what's with your clothes?"

            "Oh...I…just needed a…erm…change of style, Mr. Potter." She shook her silver tresses airily as she stood up. "Do be a dear and…give my greetings to Sevvie—er, Severus."

            Harry shook his head in a bewildered state, trying to remember if Trelawney and Snape had ever shared any miniscule scale of friendship. It was definitely strange…Ron chose a spot with Harry, but didn't talk at all. Harry supposed he was still mad at Hermione from lunch. The class fell silent as Trelawney began to speak.

            "My dears, this term we will be doing a large section on signs of the zodiac, and how people of the different signs interact with each other, and how their day-to-day lives match with their signs. Take for example, me, a Taurus"— at this Ron and Harry exchanged doubtful looks—"And your Potions master, Severus Snape, a Capricorn." Not only were Harry and Ron's eyebrows raised at Snape's sign—but they had to hide their laughter beneath dry, hacking coughs. They drowned out the rest of the professor's speech.

            "What is her obsession with Snape, I wonder?" Harry whispered, amused. "I mean, she can't fancy him, can she?"

            "What, like you and that Lola bit?"

            "Oh, come now, I wasn't talking about her," Harry muttered, blushing. 

            "Okay, okay," Ron snickered. "But it sure as hell would be hilarious if Trelawney fell head over heels for Snape. Wonder how he'd react…"

            "I FEEL NOTHING OF THE SORT FOR SEVERUS SNAPE!" Trelawney exploded, her dreamy, relaxed state vanishing, replaced with uncharacteristic rage and embarrassment. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil both looked horrified and highly affronted; meanwhile Seamus and Dean both erupted into snorts of mirth. They apparently had overheard Ron and Harry's conversation. Trelawney was at this point red in the face and hyperventilating. She collapsed back into her pouf, eyeing the class beadily. "Do you know, _my dears_, what I saw in my orb last night?"     

            "What, nude pictures of Snape?" Ron whispered amidst giggles.

            Harry smacked his head down on the table into his folded arms and shook with laughter.

            _"My dears, I saw bloody, raging massacres at Hogwarts! I saw horrifying deaths and uprisings of evil! I saw CORRUPTION, LIES, GREED, AND LUST FOR POWER!" _She bellowed, now stalking about in front of the fire. Her pink hair and clothing now clashed horribly with her blotchy purple face. Yet somehow, Harry and Ron still seemed to find the scene utterly hilarious…

            After dinner, Harry remembered again that it was the Gryffindor quidditch team tryouts. He raced to his dormitory, unlocked the chest at the foot of his bed, and grabbed his firebolt. Dashing down the stairs and out to the quidditch field, he was breathless and found assembled there Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Fred, George, and three new faces—Lola, Duncan Creevey, and Dean Thomas. Of course, he knew who the last three were, and why they were there…tryouts for the position of keeper. Harry vaguely remembered that he was captain, though the title was never officially bestowed upon him.

            "Right then, guys, are we ready?" He asked, winded, and blushed furiously as Lola gave him a wink. Duncan was fairly jumping with excitement to see him; he and is older brother Colin rather worshipped him, and had their own little Harry Potter fan club. Dean waved shyly; Harry supposed it was because he had never really expressed an interest in the game.

            "Ready when you are," Katie replied.

            "Yeah. Right then, you three, let's see what you've got."

            The three potential keepers stood there staring at him. Harry's mind went blank. Was he mute or something? Then he reminded himself—got to get the quaffle!

            "Er, I'll be right back, I've got to go get the quaffle…" Harry blushed crimson again as Lola giggled discreetly behind a hand. He returned minutes later with the chest of game balls and retrieved the quaffle. "You ready? Let's have Dean first," he suggested, trying not to favor Lola, afraid someone might notice his chronic attraction to her. Katie, Angelina, and Alicia soared into the air with Dean as opposing chasers while Dean took his spot by the three goal posts. Harry threw the quaffle into the air; Alicia caught it and immediately passed it to Katie. The three chasers made a 'V' shape flying towards the middle hoop, and Dean lowered himself onto his broom, preparing to block. Angelina hurled the quaffle instead to the left hoop, and Dean raced to it, just barely beating it back into open space with the front end of his Clean Sweep 40. The chasers hurtled back at him, revolving around in a vertical circle, passing the quaffle up every time it reached the chaser on the bottom. Dean swerved back and forth in front of the goalposts, readying himself for the attack.

            Harry was jerked from his reveries in the air by George's question. "Potter, you keeping time? If you aren't, we are." He nodded over at Fred. "They've got five seconds."

            Harry watched as Dean twirled in the air on his stick, failing to block the quaffle. Harry blew the whistle around his neck. "Time's up! Come on down, Dean!"

            Dean glided down, landing softly on the neatly clipped grass. "How'd I do?"

            "You did pretty well, Dean, good job," Harry congratulated him, thinking simultaneously, _What am I doing? I'm not a judge! Who am I kidding? But hey, he was good all the same._ "Uh…Lola, would you like to go next?"

            She smiled and shrugged. "I guess. Wish me luck, Harry," she drawled with another wink as she kicked into the air. He watched in amazement as she looped three times before spinning to a stop in front of the right hoop. Blowing the whistle, he asked Fred to keep time again. Angelina, still in possession of the quaffle, threw it carelessly at the middle hoop; Lola spun on her Firebolt, whacking the ball with the tail end of her broom. Katie caught the rebound, and passed it backward to Alicia, who flipped over to catch it, and then zoomed to the left, dropping the quaffle back to Angelina. She passed it to Alicia again who was now on the right, and she passed it toward the right hoop. Lola caught it deftly, throwing it far back to the other side of the field, scoring a goal in the middle hoop.

            "Time's up!" Fred shouted, waving his watch. Lola sailed down, leaping off her broom five feet off the ground. She grinned at Harry.

            "Well done," Harry breathed, meaning every syllable. "Well, Creevey, you're up! Good luck!"

            "Thanks!" he squeaked in reply, a piano spread across his face as he wobbled off into the air on his Silver Arrow 245. Harry sighed as the tiny wizard took his place on the left hoop. However he wanted to be nice to Duncan, he knew the kid wasn't up to a real game as he blew the whistle. He had a sneaking suspicion as Katie hurried forward with the quaffle that Duncan was going to fall…

            He wobbled. He cowered in fright as the three chasers bore down on him, readying himself for painful death—and spun dizzily back to earth. He shook himself off, and wove his way toward Harry, and he looked a bit nauseous. "Harry? I don't…I don't…" don't think I—I can do it…I feel sick." His small body gave a shudder, and he collapsed to the ground and vomited.

            _The poor kid!_ "Erm…I'll run and get Madam Pomfrey, shall I?" Harry asked, staring blankly at the unconscious figure curled up at his feet.

            "Don't worry about it," Fred and George chorused as the three chasers slowly flew to the ground.

            "Is he going to be okay?" Angelina asked in a worried tone.

            "Jeesh, I hope he's all right…" Alicia muttered, massaging her forehead with a free hand.

            "Must be afraid of heights…" Katie added quietly. "Well…I guess we'll all be going, you can talk to the keepers."

They walked off toward the entrance to the lockers, their robes trailing behind them. Harry turned to the expecting Dean and Lola.

            "Erm…for starters. You both did very well. Nice use of the tail, Lola, and you had good control of your broom, Dean. Realize that my decision is not based on favoritism"—here, Lola gave Harry yet another rogue-ish wink, smiling deviously. He tried desperately to ignore her. "—And so whomever is the new Gryffindor seeker is chosen based upon skill level." He took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't be hurting anyone's feelings. "I thought that…well…Lola is the new keeper," he finished quietly. Dean looked hardly downtrodden. He grinned at Lola.

            "Hey, good work up there, I saw you. Liked the spinning and such. Great stuff." Dean patted her shoulder appreciatively.

            "You too, Dean," Lola returned, smiling kindly.

            "Well, best be off," Dean said, turning to the entrance as he spotted Madam Pomfrey in the distance. Harry noticed that Duncan hadn't stirred a bit since he had collapsed. He worriedly hope that he was all—

            Lola kissed him squarely on the lips, and backed away slowly, grinning. Harry stood rigid, poleaxed. He stared into space as Lola flounced off to the lockers.

            "Wow…"

            "Do help me get out the stretcher, dear," Madam Pomfrey said brusquely, rolling up the arms of her sleeves. When Harry didn't move, she prodded him. "Well?"   

            Harry stood in the spot for a long time, staring at the golden sunset. "Wow…"

TO BE CONTINUED… 


	3. Love Potions and Secret Lusts

Hogwarts Gets Wild!

Machiavella of Kingsport

Chapter 3: Love Potions and Secret Lusts

            For the next month, Divination was the same—Harry, Ron, Seamus and Dean sat through boring, sweltering classes learning about the zodiac signs as well as hearing (though however cleverly they were disguised) complaints about Trelawney's dangerous crush on Snape. She endlessly compared the qualities and attractions and disagreements between those under the signs of Capricorn and Taurus. ( And of course, every time a disagreement was mentioned, a sad, dreary look overtook Trelawney's face.) Ron and Harry were so bored of it all that they ran out of jokes to crack in whispers as the professor droned on and on.

            They and Seamus and Dean were in rapture when the first visit to Hogsmeade was announced. All four of them were at the head of the line heading down, but Hermione was strangely missing.

            "Wonder what she's up to," Ron mused, a finger poised on his chin in thought.

            "She said something about studying for the O.W.L.s, but those aren't until the end of the school year…" Harry muttered, staring off into space. Ron was jerked out of his reveries.

            "What? She's WHAT?! Oh, don't tell me you just said that she's studying already…Blimey, she's more insane than I thought she was! Dear god!" Ron kneaded his forehead in frustration. "Just what are we going to do with that girl? First she dates some Dark Evil Bulgarian Quidditch player, then she goes and studies for tests that are eight months away!"

            Harry, Dean, and Seamus shot each other looks at the mention of Viktor Krum. Dean glanced at him questioningly.

            "He…well, he's kind of jealous about Krum, I think," Harry whispered, "But he refuses to admit it." Ron's ranting and raving stopped abruptly so that he could yell, at the top of his lungs,

            "I AM NOT, FOR THE LAST TIME, JEALOUS OF VIKTOR KRUM!" The crowd of students fell silent, and all eyes were upon him, some amused, some worried. "I did NOT just yell that out loud…"

            "Ron, my friend, I'm afraid you did," Seamus patted him on the shoulders consolingly. "But remember, your secret's safe with us."

            "What secret? I don't have a secret!" Ron whispered defensively, glancing around in paranoia that someone else might hear.

            "Listen, we all know you like her. Just get over it, because, if she's still with Krum and he's like a thousand miles away, she obviously doesn't like you," Dean added.

            "Tactless," Ron muttered, staring at the ground as they neared the village of Hogsmeade. "Utterly tactless. And I am NOT crying…"

            Coming out of the Three Broomstick, warmed with butterbeer, Harry brought up the subject of Trelawney's crush on Snape. Immediately, Ron, Dean, and Seamus shook their heads sadly.

            "Poor old bat…she'll never manage to get him," Ron sighed. "I almost pity her but for the fact that it's _Snape_…"

            "Ah, she loves from afar, yet will never ensnare the heart of that the one so treasured…" Dean sighed, clasping his hands over his heart in a melancholy gesture. "I also read too much Shakespeare." He smacked himself on the forehead. No one laughed; everyone was too busy thinking of ways to get Trelawney's mind off of the potions master. And, all at once, realization dawned upon Harry as they traveled down the muddy street.

            "We could modify her memory!"

            "What, and lose our teacher?" Dean countered. "Wait a minute, that's a good thing…"

            "It's kind of mean," Seamus added.

            Ron was still deep in thought, staring moodily ahead. A smile spread slowly over his face, mischievous and cunning. He giggled slightly. "Lockhart…"

            "Oh, no," Harry began, backing away. "If you're thinking of bringing him back into the picture—no. No way are we going to see him again!"

            "No, not that," Ron said impatiently, waving his hands. "See, he was always so obsessed with popularity and looks and love and stuff…like on Valentine's Day…and he had the little cupids with arrows! If somehow, we could make a tiny little bow and arrow and put a love potion on the tip and shot it at Snape, maybe he'd fall in love with Trelawney and they'd both be happy for the week it lasts."

            "No, see there, Ron—there's one problem." Seamus shook his head. "When cupid shoots his arrow, the target falls in love with the very next thing it sees. For all our chances, Snape could fall in love with a beaker of armadillo bile and get married to it!"

            Dean broke into insane laughter. "And while it might not carry out our purposes, it would serve him right!"

            Ron was still concentrating heavily. At last he spoke again. "Well, we could make the potion with something added to it that is part of Trelawney—like a piece of hair or a nail clipping or spit or something…"

            "Ron, you're a genius! Just like in Polyjuice potion!" Harry cried. Several passersby in the street gave the four boys rather odd looks and hurried on their way. "We could make up the potion ourselves, like we did with antidotes last year."

            "Sure…and we are smart enough how?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised.

            "It's simple…" Harry said. _"Ask Hermione."_

            "You have brains, thought you might like to know," Seamus stated, patting him on the back. "Let's get to Honeyduke's before it's too late, now."

            Harry, Dean, Seamus, and Ron rushed to Hermione the very moment they arrived back at school. Breathless, they found her in the library, hunched over a table full of books.

            "Go away, I'm studying!" She whispered harshly, not looking up.

            "No, no, we need your help!"

            She looked up at this, because the speaker was Ron. "Oh, you're talking to me again? Well, then."

            "Never mind that," Ron gasped, clutching a stitch in his side. "We need your help making a…a love potion." He said that last part quietly so that Madam Pince wouldn't' hear and report them. Hermione raised her eyebrows dubiously, her forehead creasing.

            "It's against the school rules, you know that," she scolded.

            "We don't care! Just…just shut up and hear us out, okay?" Ron requested, glaring balefully at her. "Listen, Trelawney has a major crush on Snape. She won't stop talking about it a single second of class! It's horrible." He shuddered. He worked up the courage to continue. "We figured if we gave Snape a small dose of love potion to last a week, he'd fall in love with her and then she'd stop complaining about her unrequieted love and such."

            "So you need help making it? That's simple, just add the ingredients, boil it for four hours, feed Snape." Hermione shook her head exasperatedly. "Really, no common sense…"

            "No, no," Harry corrected, his breath regained. "See, we have to make it specifically so that he falls in love with only her. Basically, we need to actually design the potion and add, I guess, a small bit of Trelawney so that it works, like in the Polyjuice Potion."

            "Sounds logical…" Hermione replied, staring off on a train of thought. Harry could almost hear the gears grinding away in her brain, racing for the answers. "I might as well stop studying, I guess," she said at last, looking regretfully at her books. "Sit down and I'll help you get started."

            Seamus, Dean, Ron, and Harry pulled up four chairs to her table, leaning forward expectantly. Hermione rolled up her sleeves, pulled out a fresh piece of parchment, and began to scribble down a series of hurried notes. "Lamb's ear you'll definitely need, you have it in your personal stores, most common ingredient…um…cinnamon, for figurative flavor—adds natural feeling of zing, makes the person affected feel as though it's real…pomegranate seed, for strong attraction…a bit of unsweetened chocolate for aftertaste—helps with a feeling of longing…poppy seed for a dreamlike state like you're in when you first fall in love with a person…"

            Ron coughed discreetly, hiding a blush creeping into his cheeks. Hermione looked up and eyed him skeptically before returning to her notes.

            "You know, you can find most of this either in the kitchens or in the student supplies…" she continued, tapping her quill on an open book. "Let's see…don't forget the bit of the person you want Snape to fall in love with…diluted juice of nightshade to add mental blindness towards the potion, you don't want Snape finding out you're the ones behind this…um." She stopped, licking her lips. "There's something I'm forgetting, I know…"

            "Could it be…honey?" Seamus suggested in a small voice, afraid he might be wrong. "You know, because everyone loves honey. Note the key word, love."

            "Good point, thanks." Hermione jotted it down, and then handed the list to Ron. "Here you have—Lamb's ear, cinnamon, pomegranate seed, unsweetened chocolate, poppy seed, diluted juice of nightshade, part of Trelawney, honey…and instructions…combine them all in a beaker of grapefruit juice and boil it for four hours. Viola, potion for love."

            "Thanks," Harry said, grinning.

            "Yeah, thanks," Dean added, as the four boys trotted out the door.

            "My god, I can't believe how blasted easy that was!" Ron exclaimed.

            "Yeah, and you love Hermione," Seamus goaded.

            "Now we'll have Trelawney off our backs!" Ron went on, undaunted.

            "Yeah, and you love Hermione," Harry added, snickering.

            "Oh, shut it, you," Ron said good-naturedly, hitting him lightly upside the head. "To the kitchens!"

            "And the student stores!" Dean added, an arm raised triumphantly to the ceiling, traipsing down the hallway. The boys burst into maniacal cackling and stumbled their way to the kitchens.

            It was Sunday night when the four of them finished the potion. "Right, then—we've solved that puzzle…" Harry muttered. "Now for how to give it to Snape." The ingredients had been easy to procure, two of which were from the student stores, and most of which were readily given by the eager, handy kitchen elves. The part of Trelawney had been taken as Ron asked for help on a zodiac puzzle in class. When she had bent over to look at his parchment, he had taken a silver hair discreetly and dropped it into a small glass phial. Now that the potion was done, they all knew they couldn't very well just pour the potion into Snape's evening pumpkin juice.

            On Monday morning in potions, wielding the beaker, Harry found the solution as Snape went to assist Draco on his Secrecy potion. Harry was at a desk to the front of the room, and noticed that the professor had left a glass of grapefruit juice on his table unattended…Harry slipped in the love potion, and sat back into his seat just as Snape passed by, glancing carelessly to see how the Secrecy potion was coming. He took hold of his glass; Harry held his breath. Snape gulped down the rest of the juice, wiped his lips, and then glared at Harry.

            "What are you staring at, Potter?"

            "Nothing, sir, just…uh…grinding my lo—er, milkweed."

            "Fine, then, get back to work," he snapped, and made his way back up the aisle as Pansy Parkinson raised her hand for help. Harry gave Ron the thumbs-up sign behind Snape's back, and Ron grinned, passing it on to Seamus and Dean. All Harry could think of was, _we did it…_

            The next day, on his way through a hallway to the stairs to the North Tower for Divination, Harry came across Snape and a very rushed Trelawney. He hid quietly in an alcove, watching his Divination teacher come running down the stairs with a pile of McGonagall's transfiguration books that had been dumped in her classroom by Peeves, the resident Hogwarts poltergeist. Trelawney was muttering under her breath in a most irritable fashion, not looking where she was going.

            "Blast that stupid poltergeist, the DADA teacher should've gotten rid of that vermin by now…" she brushed a silvery lock from her glasses, and Snape, who stood yards before her in a euphoric, trance-like state, smiled dazedly and didn't move. Harry watched gleefully. Two feet, one foot…BAM. Sibyll Trelawney smashed right into Severus Snape and bowled him over onto the floor. The books went flying in every which direction, and passing students ducked wildly as they hurtled through the air. Harry could hardly contain his laughter.

            Snape was hardly making an attempt to remove himself from underneath the divination teacher, and was grinning oddly at a most disheveled Trelawney. She struggled to push herself up. "Oh, really, I'm _so_ sorry, Severus! Really, I don't know what just happened. My thoughts were clearly somewhere else…" she braced herself in a slightly upright position pushing her hands down upon the stone floor, and Harry caught a glimpse of her bright pink face. He was glad she couldn't see him. But once she was close to kneeling, Snape reached up with a grin and clamped his hands around her torso, bringing her back down. "Sevvie—I mean, Severus, I mean—Professor Snape—I—I—OOMPH!" Her mouth was smothered by Snape's lips. Harry's jaw dropped.

            "Blimey, it _did_ work then!" He restrained himself from clapping his hands in celebration. "Now we won't have to listen to that old bat anymore…" Ron came up behind him, his eyes wide as saucers.

            "We did it!"

            "Shhh…" Harry whispered, looking backward for a fleeting second and then letting his gaze get glued back to Snape and Trelawney, who were still kissing passionately. "They're kissing…"

            "I know, you dimwit…"

            The two professors pulled apart breathlessly, staring at each other with new love shining in their eyes. "Oh, Sevvie…" Trelawney murmured.

            "Oh, Sibbie…"

            Flushed, Trelawney pushed herself back to a standing position, giving Snape a hand up as well. "Well—well—I, I mean, I—I'd better get to my class…" Trelawney gathered up the scattered books, apparently not remembering to return them to McGonagall. She gulped nervously, then straightened her shoulders bravely. "Farewell, O dashing man of my dreams," she said with new courage. Ron and Harry could hardly contain themselves and covered their mouths tightly with their hands. Snape gazed at Trelawney in watery adoration.

            "Sibyll, believe me when I say you are my one and only true love, and I shall keep you close to my heart always. It is now that we are sadly parted for we must disperse to our respective classes—I to potions, you to divination. I will save you a seat beside me at lunch, beauteous one…" he sighed, brushed an oily black lock of hair out of his black eyes and bowed dramatically, sweeping away down the corridor and around the corner behind which Ron and Harry were hiding. Snape stopped abruptly, and turned on his heel, whipping around to face the two highly amused boys. His dreamy state vanished, replaced with his usual sneer and strict air. _"And just what do you two think you were doing?"_ his voice was dangerously quiet and his eyes were narrowed to ferocious slits.

            Harry and Ron coughed harshly, not able to bring themselves to face him, and then burst into much pent-up laughter. "Nothing!" Ron wheezed. "Nothing. We were…just…on our way to…_divination_ class! Yeah!" Ron dissolved back into childish giggles, covered his face with his hands and sliding to the floor. Snape wrinkled his nose skeptically.

            "Well, go on then! Go! Now! Get out of my sight!"

            Ron and Harry scrambled to get to their feet, gathering their backpacks, and scampered to the North Tower stairs. 

            "And…and say hello to Sibyll for me!" He called after them, his voice softening unnaturally. The boys doubled over in laughter once again, stumbling up the stairs.

            "Oh, trust us, we _will!"_ Harry replied through choked mirth. "We certainly will!"

            "Oh, shut up, you nutter," Ron poked him in the side. "Hurry along, we'll be late for _divination…"_

            For the next week, students aside from Seamus, Ron, Dean, and Harry were giggling about the outrageous affair that was carrying on in the school between Professors Sibyll Trelawney and Severus Snape. In hallways when they passed each other, they would often bow theatrically and speak in romantic verse to one another, blatantly displaying their affection. Occasionally Snape would even, much to the dismay of pupils and teachers alike, grab the divination teacher and kiss her passionately in front of everyone. Some students—most in Slytherin—even dared to applause when in the dining room one day at lunch, Snape and Trelawney bewitched the sky so that the clouds floating across played a tango and the two enamored teachers danced down the aisles, dipping and swaying like professionals. At the Gryffindor table, Hermione winked secretively at the four boys who had made Trelawney's secret fantasies come true.

            "You guys must've done an excellent job on that potion," she whispered carefully one day later than the end of the week in which the potion was to be in effect. She glanced at the teacher's table as Sibyll planted a smooch on Snape's sallow-skinned cheek. As he glowed in euphoric happiness, his smile—most rare—actually made him look handsome. "It's a day after the week when he's supposed to be in love with her. The potion should've worn off by now, but look—he's plainly still in love with her. You can see it—his eyes just light up when she sweeps in the room."

            Seamus snorted. "I know, it's just hilarious. We must've made too much potion"—

            Dean cut him off. "No, I'm very sure we made the perfect amount. I measured each ingredient out perfectly, I should know. I seriously don't know what's going on now…and to tell you the truth," he muttered mischievously, "I kind of think they're, well…_cute_ together, don't you?"

            Hermione giggled discreetly behind her hand. "I guess so…" She glanced at Dumbledore, who was smiling kindly at the two lovebirds. "But really," she said, her serious air back in place, "Don't you think the two professors would be back to ignoring each other by now?"

            "Yeah, it's kind of odd…" Ron said, though still grinning evilly at the teachers' table.

            Harry coughed, and then turned an embarrassed red. "I'd speak my mind now, but you'd laugh…"

            "No, come on, hack it up," Ron demanded, taking a gulp of pumpkin juice.

            "All right…" Harry replied reluctantly. "Well…I think their romance goes deeper than just the potion, if you ask me. I know it sounds crazy, but I have this feeling…like, I know for sure that the effects of the potion have worn off Snape…it's just, I think he realized through the clouds of it all that he really truly loves Trelawney."

            Seamus, Hermione, Ron, and Dean eyed him skeptically, and then they all stared off into space in contemplation. Hermione was first to come back to earth. "You know, Harry, I think you're right. This isn't the potion in action…I think it's real love for Snape and Trelawney! Wow! You guys are genius matchmakers, I must say."

            Professor Snape was absent for the first time from his potions class the next day. Draco complained loudly when he heard that Dumbledore would be taking over for the period. The headmaster swept into the room, eyed the students over the rim of his half-mooned spectacles, and cleared his throat.

            "As you may have noticed, Gryffindors and Slytherins, your usual professor, Severus Snape, is absent today. He reported sick to Madam Pomfrey. However, though some of you may wish to visit him and comfort him, I'm afraid it is not possible. He has locked himself in his quarters, refusing treatment, and will not take visitors. I shall take his place in his classes today, but since I am not so great at potions, I figured we could all do something fun."

            Harry could make out Draco at the back corner shaking his head in his hands and Pansy looking surprisingly tearful and put out. He wondered silently what she was so sad about…surely she couldn't be that concerned for Snape…then, a most horrible and unwanted thought crossed his mind, which he hurriedly shoved away. He nearly gagged at the prospect, and then turned his attention back to Dumbledore.

            "I have managed to bribe the Bloody Baron to ensnare the resident poltergeist Peeves and bring him to me. Today we will practice how to freeze a poltergeist in midair for twenty four hours!" Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled with silent, amused laughter, and most everyone's face in the room brightened with excitement. 

            "For _real?"_ Lavender squealed. "Oh, that'll be brilliant! Now he can't get into my…uh, my…never mind!" Her face went a dark scarlet and she buried her head in her arms, which were crossed in front of her on the desk.

            "And I won't pry any further, I assure you, as I hope no others will," Dumbledore reassured her. "Now, if you would all be so kind as to take your wands from your bags…"

            With that, Dumbledore took a shaking box from behind him, from which loud and angry curses could be plainly heard. The headmaster opened the box with a steely wrench, and Peeves bounced out, ranting and raving. Harry grinned, and his previous thought was erased from his mind for the time being…

TO BE CONTINUED…

AUTHOR'S NOTE: How are you liking it so far? If you're wondering…yes, I am kind of weird, to think up a couple like Trelawney and Snape…but I thought it was funny, which is a legitimate excuse when this is supposed to be a rather comical story. So if you think that the couple it extremely disgusting, don't flame me…please…no one likes those, they're no fun, really. Anyhow, review, kindly…


	4. Secret Lusts...Continued!

Hogwarts Gets Wild!

Machiavella of Kingsport

Chapter 4: Secret Lusts…Continued

            Draco glanced over at Pansy during potions class. "Hey, Pansy," he whispered, nudging her. Meanwhile he kept his hands busy grinding up fennel seeds for his engorgement potion. Pansy did not answer. He rolled his eyes, shook his head, and tried again. "Pansy!"

            All he got in response was a passionate sigh. Then, he found her brown eyes, and followed her gaze to the front of the room, where stood Professor Snape, sitting at his desk, writing on papers, and smiling—smiling?—to himself. Draco looked at Pansy. He looked at Snape. He looked at Pansy's slack jaw. He looked at Snape. He looked at the string of drool already flowing to a collecting puddle in front of Pansy on her desk. He looked back at Snape. _Oh, sick!_ He thought, and shook his head again. "Hey! Pansy!" he fairly shouted, waving a hand frantically in front of her face. Many eyes turned toward him, and then immediately to Pansy, who, while still drooling, was also blushing deep crimson and hastening to wipe off her mouth.

            "What? What? What is it, Draco?" Her eyes were wide, as though she had just been woken from an intense dream. Draco shuddered to think what that dream might have been. God! And Snape was his head of house! Oh, so wrong! He composed himself though, and kept from bursting into wild laughter.

            "I was just wondering how fine we have to cut up the willow root."

            "Well, I don't know…Let me check my notebook…" Pansy turned to get her backpack and unzipped the top, slow as cold molasses in January. Extracting a large, bright pink notebook covered in doodles and hearts (Draco quickly shut his eyes and looked away, only opening his eyes again to watch her leaf through the book), Pansy flipped through the cluttered notes of her binder. "Oh, geez, I can't find it…oh, geez…"

            "Well, it might help if you stopped staring at the wall over there and looked at what you were flipping through!" Draco muttered, being careful not to utter Snape's name. Draco went low, but not below the belt…

            Pansy continued to search, and while she did so, three leaves of parchment slipped silently out and onto the floor. Draco smoothly picked them off the floor. 

            "Oh, Pansy, never mind, here it is, thanks," Draco interrupted, skimming quickly over the page, where it said, 'chop willow roots finely as though to mince'. "Mind if I keep these a bit? I might need them again."

            Pansy furrowed her brow in contemplation, as though trying to remember something, and then waved her hand carelessly in decision. "No, I don't think I have anything important on those, just give them back to me sometime this year."

            "Sure." Draco pulled his willow root closer to him and began to dice it finely, when he accidentally knocked over his tiny beaker of dragon spittle. The slightly reddish liquid spread over the parchment that Pansy had given him. "Oh, crap…" He righted the beaker, and then raised his hand. "Professor Snape? I need another beaker of dragon saliva."

            Snape raised his head slowly and looked at Draco, then silkily rose from his seat and picked a full beaker off the front table and bore it down the aisle to Draco's seat. "There you go. Try not to spill anymore"—He was interrupted by Harry Potter. Draco glared, and then went back to his willow root.

            "Please, Professor, how fine should I chop this willow root?"

            "You figure it out, big shot," Snape spat, and then swept back up to his desk. Draco chuckled, and then, took another glance at Pansy's parchment…where the spit had soaked through, he saw more writing. He flipped it over, and then a smirk crossed his face as he shot sideways glances at Pansy. _Oh, my god, this is just too good…_Secretly he stuffed the parchment into his robe pocket._ I'll save this for bed time reading, I think…_

            Draco could hardly contain himself throughout lunch and the rest of his classes. He dared not tell anyone, afraid it would get to Pansy and she'd take the parchment back. Oh, this was too good…too good…He ran straight to his dorm room and changed into his pajamas right after quidditch practice and hopped into bed, pulled out the sheafs of parchment. Lighting his wand (_"Lumos!"_), he began to read:

Dear Severus,

        You are the one and only man of my dreams. I worship every part of you from your sensual black eyes to the very lint in your bellybutton.Severus, I have made up my mind…I love you! I am prepared to spend the rest of my life with you. Your dark, dirty mind is what ensnares my heart and binds me eternally to you. O, say to me the words I long so much to hear! Say that you love me! Ever since I first saw you smile last week my heart has been beating wildly like that of a rabbit caught in a trap…Severus, say that you feel for me what I feel for you.

Your Faithful Servant,

Pansy P. Parkinson 

Dear Severus,

        My love for you is like the green waves upon the ocean, never-ending and eternal. My heart aches and burns for you like the hungry ravenous fire. My soul reaches for you like so many lustful hands…My mind spins blindly with love like a merry-go-round…

        If only you would look at me softly and full of desire as I stare at you; If only you just felt the same way.

        At this point age does not matter to me. You may get old while I am still young, but it will be sexy…like a vampire.

        O, my heart's desire, hold me, touch me, kiss me, fondle me! I am but your loyal dog, your willing playtoy…all I ask from you is love! Grant me this one wish!

I Remain Your Faithful Servant,

Pansy P. Parkinson

          Draco could hardly contain his laughter. He clamped a hand tightly over his mouth as tears leaked out of his eyes. Oh how gross, yet…so entertaining! And though he thought they were lower in status than he as wizards, he had the perfect idea just who to show it to!

TO BE CONTINUED…

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry, I know this was short…but I really wanted to post tonight…or should I say, this morning…and I could only type for so long before daddy wakes up…hehe…well. New chapter soon, I promise!—Machiavella of Kingsport, a.k.a. Nicoli. E-mail me: nicoli@kiwibox.com. 


	5. Draco Mingles With the Gryffindors!

Hogwarts Gets Wild

Machiavella of Kingsport

Chapter 5: Draco Mingles With the Gryffindors!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Again, readers, I apologize for the very short chapter last time. I will explain again…dad had just gotten up to let the very loud kitty out at about 1:30 A.M., and so I had to keep silent as a nothing and stiff as a corpse to keep him from investigating mysterious lights and A drive whirring noises. Naturally, since I knew someone was awake, I had to stop…and so this is a continuation of, really, the previous chapter. Hopefully I will not have to make such a short section next time! Anyhow, enjoy reading…--Machiavella of Kingsport A.K.A Nicoli Dominn (nicoli@kiwibox.com)

Draco giggled. There had to be more stuff about Snape that that air-head Pansy had written…his idea still ran around in his head, and at every step closer to the girls' Slytherin dorms it seemed better and better. The whole school would be laughing by tomorrow…laughing at Pansy. All of them, even Snape. Oh, it was ingenious…

Draco pocketed his wand carefully, the invisibility charm still active around him. He was quite talented at erasing all indication of his presence, and he used this ability now as he found a chest of Pansy's belongings at the foot of her bed. He tried lifting the cover, and found it locked. He took his wand out again. _"Alohomora!"_ he whispered, and he cringed as the lock sprang open with a squeal. Apparently the bolts and tumblers needed oiling. He froze, and waited in careful silence, listening as Pansy stirred in her heavy slumber and let out a loud snort. Breathing out in relief, he shook his head in disgust and began pawing through the top layers of the chest.

Holding back laughter, he found pink and green leopard-spotted thong underwear, many black, lacy bras, and to his disgust, flavored condoms…He held back rising vomit and continued his search, beginning to wonder if the trouble was worth it. At last he found a fluffy pink book. Where the cotton-ball fluff was absent, it read, _"The Life and Times of Pansy P. Parkinson". _He held back nervous giggles as he opened the book carefully. 

Holding his wand over the pages, he muttered, _"Lumos."_ A small yellow light spread from the tip of his wand and illuminated the thin, nearly transparent pages. He read:

__

Dear Diary,

To you I shall be disclosing my deepest and darkest secrets. I am Pansy Pellicotta Parkinson, age fifteen, blonde, brown-eyed, short, and sweet. I'm rich, and I get anything I want…except for just lately. It just makes me so mad! I am a Slytherin at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and my head of house is the handsomest, sweetest, most charming man in the world…Severus Snape. He's also my potions master, so I get to see him nearly every day.

He's tall, slender, and underneath the robes (I suspect) he is built along the lines of a quidditch player…a chaser, I think. His long black hair is shiny and black, and it reaches to his shoulders in a ponytail. My friends all think his hair is greasy, but they're wrong…It's beautiful, like a raven's wing. His eyes are glittery and black like precious stones, and his red, sensual lips are so soft I can just feel them quivering upon mine…the only problem is, he's got a girlfriend!

This is what makes me so mad. His girlfriend, the bitch, is my divination teacher, Professor Sybill Trelawney. She's such an old bat, with specs and everything! She acts like a hippie most of the time, except lately, when all she does is talk about Severus…but Severus is mine! I want him, and why does she get him first? It's not fair! I have more money than she does, I'll bet, because my vault at Gringott's is filled to the ceiling with bright gold galleons.

But back to Severus, because he's more important than anything right now. I want to keep my love secret for now, because then my friends might start liking him too. You know, they do everything I do. Last year at the Yule Ball they all wore the same dress robes as I did, and they all tried to do their hair the same way. If they all start liking Severus just because I do, I might have to bear with watching them_ drool in class._

Today, in Arithmancy, I completely zoned out and started thinking about Severus in the shower (everyone says he doesn't bathe but I refuse to believe it). I imagined him all naked, and wet, and dripping, his hair clinging to his hard, muscular chest…The thoughts were so exciting I actually drooled down the front of my robes. It was so embarrassing, but I used my wand to clean up the mess. I hope I never salivate like that again! 

But I can't stop thinking of Severus Snape this way…even in my dreams he haunts me, and it's wonderful, like Heaven. I dream he is in my arms and holding me tightly, never letting me go, and kissing me, kissing me always, and so passionately. He is so perfectly hard and muscular beneath my hands, and warm, and his cheek next to mine is like a silky pillow…But I am so disappointed when I wake up and it's just the sleeve of my pink satin nightgown against my face, and the mahogany bed post in my clutches. But I suppose it would be awkward if Severus and I were actually together. People might think it was weird for a teacher and student to be in love. It's always good to wish, though.

And right now, I wish that Snape loved me back. I shall wish for this forever.

Your Hopelessly Romantic Friend,

Pansy P. Parkinson

Draco felt it best at that time just to leave the dormitory with the book, for he was positively melting with silent laughter. He crept out of the door, shutting it smoothly and breathing a sigh of relief. He took his wand from his pocket and waved it around above his head. _"Reveles…_wow, this is too good." He rubbed his now visible hands together in excitement, and padded softly down to the common room, making sure there was no one else nearby.

The dying embers in the fireplace glowed orange, and lit up his hands as he continued to leaf through the diary, smiling rather evilly with delight as he read voraciously. He himself actually a good writer, he found himself critiquing Pansy's entries.

"Often she just goes off on pointless tangents…digression, I guess. Um…see here…" he muttered, pointing a long, slender finger at one sentence. "…So many run-ons. Really, she could've divided that one into at least three sentences, it takes up almost a whole paragraph. And in contrast, she's got this one sentence right after that consists of all of…well, look, one word! And every time a new school year starts, she always begins an entry with the same epithet about her being short and sweet and all that blabber." He chuckled condescendingly and shook his head. "Really, no writing skills, except for a modest vocabulary…" Draco went on in this fashion for about three hours, reading previous entries from even Pansy's first year at Hogwarts. He laughed out loud, and then covered his mouth hastily upon finding an entry about himself.

__

…One of my house-mates, Draco Malfoy, is really cute. He has blue eyes and blonde hair. His smile is so…adorable, I just want to hug him like a teddy bear. He is tall for his age, and he looks almost like a movie star with his blonde hair slicked back. All he needs are sunglasses and he would look perfect.

I talked to him yesterday during Herbology and I think he was flirting with me. This of course is no surprise; back at muggle school all the boys used to flirt with me. I had three boyfriends then. But now I'm too shy even to ask Draco out. It's so pitiful. I really wish I could!…

In the middle of his suppressed laughter Draco yawned hugely, and stared ahead in surprise. The fire was nearly out, and through the windows he could see the bright red sun peeking over the edge of the horizon. He looked at his watch; it read 3:41 A.M. _Better get back to bed, _he thought, stretching his arms over his head. He trudged slowly back upstairs.

The next morning after breakfast, he went instead of to his History of Magic class to Charms following closely behind the Weasley twins, Fred and George. He finally caught them away from the crowd, behind a door. They eyed him suspiciously and warily, frowning.

"Fred, George," he began nervously. He hoped no one would hear. No longer would his plan be secret, but he would be shamed for the rest of his school career for talking with two Gryffindors—muggle-lovers at that, but this factor did not seem to bother him at the moment. The twins were still silent, but at least they hadn't given him the cold shoulder and left for Charms. "I need you two to do for me a large favor."

Finally Fred spoke. "And why should we, Malfoy scum? What have you ever done for us?"

Draco removed a large bag of galleons form his pocket and showed it to them silently, the heavy coins clinking metallicaly together. George's eyes widened. "We're listening!"

Draco smiled. "All right. Now, yesterday, I happened to come across a diary and a couple of loose sheets of parchment with rather…embarrassing things written in and on them about a certain potions master. The parchment and the book belonged to Pansy Parkinson, a fellow Slytherin fifth year." He showed them discreetly to the twins, who now shared in his delight and amusement, disregarding all previous grudges between them.

"This is great…" Fred whispered, his face aglow. "What does this have to do with us and a favor, though?"

Draco took a deep breath, and continued talking. "What I would greatly like for you two to do is…" he glanced carefully around, making sure that the hallway was empty before resuming speech again. "…I want you to display these all over the school so that everyone sees them."

The twins grinned identical mischievous smiles, sharing conspiring looks. "Brilliant. How many galleons, did you say?"

"Two hundred."

"You're on!"

TO BE CONTINUED…


	6. How to Use a School as a Message Board

Machiavella of Kingsport

Harry Potter

Hogwarts Gets Wild 

Chapter 7: How to Use a School as a Message Board

            George and Fred Weasley could not believe their luck. Oh, and what beautiful luck it was. Here lay in their hands the perfect opportunity to shame the house of Slytherin, to turn their faces from mean green to a wonderfully embarrassed shade of crimson. So, who cared if the opportunity was granted by a lowly Slytherin, Malfoy himself? It wasn't like _they_, perfectly moral Gryffindors that they were, were going to get nailed. Oh, to see the look on Professor Snape's face come next morning at breakfast…it was almost too good to be true.

            "'Ere, Fred, gimme that letter again…" George whispered in Charms, beckoning gleefully. "My god, I can't believe she even talks about the lint in his bellybutton…jeez…" He grabbed his throat dramatically and pretended to gag. The twins exchanged glances.

            "Eeeew," they chorused. Too loudly, of course.

            "Fred, George? Oh, do let me in on the fun, what's making you boys sillier than usual?"

            "Uh, um, nothing, professor, nothing at all!" Fred lied, shoving the parchment quickly into his rucksack. "We were just remembering something from last night's dinner, isn't that right George?"

            "Uh, yeah, you know that green jell-o stuff, it kinda looks alive…"

            Professor Flitwick gave them a calculating stare through his gold-rimmed spectacles. "All right, boys, as long as it's nothing illegal." The class, who had been waiting tentatively for a punishment, broke into fits of giggles. "Well, then, lets get back to work. You need to learn the Self-Engorgement Charm before the end of class, and not one of you has bloated so much as a centimeter."

            The students immediately got back to work, and Fred and George tried their hardest not collapse into crazed laughter.

            The twins both skipped lunch to hurry to the library. There, they pored over books looking for duplication spells for the diary entries and love letters. Madam Pince highly suspected mischief, as they were stifling coughs of giggles every five seconds, but only told them to keep quiet.

            "Ooh, there's one to paint on walls…but if you can't erase it, Filch would get pissed. Oh well, would serve that cheesy bloke right…"

            "Mmm, how about this one on mass production of banners? We could hang 'em in the dining hall for morning…but not everyone looks at those."

            Their whispers were inaudible to everyone save the twins, and they almost were late for class before they found the perfect charm—a self-declaring wall poster. "How many of those do you think we'd need? We've got, what, three or four articles, and we want the whole school to hear it…so what do you say? One of each in every major hallway, the most racy one we can have in the dining hall, right behind Snape's usual seat?" George suggested quietly, eyeing the librarian out of the corner of his eye.

            "That would work. So in the common room, we hang around studying, and we go to bed like everyone else, act real natural. And then…hmmm…when everyone reaches the room and most everyone's asleep, I'll shove you awake?" Fred's eyes were gleaming excitedly.

            "Yeah, yeah, and maybe we could snag Harry's cloak, you think?"

            "We should probably ask him. Hell, he'd like the idea anyway, I'm sure he wouldn't mind donating to the cause for a night, eh?"

            "Right. So you shove me awake, and then we'll sneak out real quiet and do some posting, you know, put the posters on mute until say eight o'clock in the morning. That's when people are already in the dining hall, most of them."

            "How do you think we'll do that?" asked Fred contemplatively.

            "Timers, stupid. Think about it. Either that or one of us could just silence it and then turn up the volume at eight when we're both in the dining hall."

            "Timers would work. Let's go with that."

            "Yeh—oh, hell! The bell rings in two minutes for class to start, and we're all the way in the south tower! Shit!"

            Madam Pince shot the boys a look. "Quiet! I won't hear that kind of language in here!"

            "Sorry…" They grinned sheepishly and shot off.

            "Hey, Harry!" Fred caught him by the stairwell going to bed that night.

            "Yeah?"

            "You know that cloaky-thingy you go sneaking about it? The invisibility cloak?"

            Harry looked suspicious. "Right, what about it? You need it or something?"

            "We—me and George, that is—we'll be needing it for something tonight. We're going to make fools out of those Slytherins."

            "Really?" The grin on Harry's face was pure evil. "How?" he whispered, his eyes darting around to make sure no one could hear.

            "That's a surprise, now, we can't tell you. But it'll be great, _classic,_ I tell you. Just lend us the cloak, okay?" Fred was anxious, shifting his feet nervously in the shadows.

            "Yeah, sure, as long as those Slytherins get what they deserve! And get it _good!"_ Harry led Fred to the chest at the foot of his bed, and carefully pulled it out, shielding it from view. Fred's eyes fairly glowed at the sight of the marvelous item, silvery and shiny like moonbeam.

            "Oh, this is great, Harry, we owe you…"

            "Not at all. Shaming Slytherins is good enough payback for me. Use it well, Fred." Harry chuckled as he showed the seventh year out, and then Fred scampered over to his room by George.

            "George, I got it!"

            "Shhh! Put it away, wait until eleven. You can wake me up then."

            "Holy shit, it's gonna be great!"

            "Shhh!"

            But neither of them could keep from squirming all the way until eleven. Finally, Fred slithered out of bed and tapped George to make sure he was awake. "Time to go." George nodded and stood, and Fred retrieved the invisibility cloak from the chest at the foot of his bed. With a flourish he flung it over the two of them, wands and items pocketed, and they crept out the door without a sound.

            The paths were clear all the way to the first main hallway, and George and Fred could hardly contain their glee. George pulled the parchments from his pajama pants pocket. "Which one should we do first?"

            Without hesitation, Fred replied, "The shortest one, just to make sure it works. You remember how to do this, right? We can each do two—a love letter and a diary entry. Okay."

            George shuffled through, and found the shortest of the love letters. "Here's a short one. Now what is it, I speak the words as I write them on the wall with a wand, and then, what's the word I have to say?"

            "Um…oh, yeah—_Napicitye—_Don't you think that sounds Russian?"

            "You numbskull, it _is_ Russian. It's the infinitive of the verb 'to write'." George sighed, taking a look at the letter.

            "I didn't know you knew Russian."

            "I don't. Russian pen-pal."

            "Right…"

            "Now shut it, Filch might hear us even though we're hidden. Keep that in mind. Now…Let's go." He pulled out his wand quietly, and dictated the words of the letter in a whisper and he traced the words on the cold stone wall. "_Dear Severus, you are the one and only man of my dreams. I worship every part of you from…"_

            It was hard to keep from insane, maniacal laughter. Fred found he had to silence himself with a mute charm to keep himself quiet as he listened to George saying the very words that were going to make Pansy Parkinson notorious. At last, when George was finished, he spoke the charm word and turned the volume down extremely low as he tested the poster. When he was satisfied, he put it on a mute timer and set it for eight o'clock in the morning. "Right, then, Fred—here's a love letter, and which diary entry do you want to post?"

            "How about the Draco one, just for variety?" 

            George nodded, and so they continued on, huddled together inside the invisibility cloak, shuffling along carefully. They jumped at the slightest noises, and froze at the tiniest of movements. Just when George had finished with his diary entry about Snape, he stopped. There before them was a cat—a scrawny, gray cat, with eyes huge like shining orbs in the night. Mrs. Norris. He nudged Fred as if to say, don't say a word.

            Mrs. Norris appeared to be looking straight at the twins, and for a while she stood there, staring. She bathed herself, and stretched, and finally, after what seemed like ten minutes, she finally walked airily past, her nose and tail in the air. They almost breathed identical sighs of relief until they remembered that they weren't supposed to be there at all. Fred nudged George in the direction of the dining hall, and the two of them tiptoed through the great double doors. 

            At night, with no diners to fill the space, the dining hall seemed so very great and cavernous, almost menacing, with the imitation night sky heavy and blue above them. The stars were out, and shining brightly, and a full moon hung huge and white over their heads. But as it was artificial light, the Weasleys still had to stumble about in the dark, making their way to the faculty table.

            Finally, Fred spoke. "So, which one are we posting above Snape's seat?"

            George grinned nastily. "Let's make it the longest, juiciest, most embarrassing diary entry…how about the one with the fantasy about him in the shower?"

            Fred's half grimace, half smile showed complete agreement. "So who's gonna do it, me or you?"

            George shivered with disgust. "You…I can't bear to say another word of sickly praise about that greasy potions master. Eurgh."

            "Fine then." Bile rose in Fred's throat, but he fought it down, and spoke as he wrote. When he was finished, he even spiced up the colors from plain black and white to a garish fuscia and a horrible, slimy-looking green. He stood back, attaching the timer to the back, and muted it.

            George chuckled evilly. "It's a work of art."

            The next morning, Fred and George sat next to Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the usual Gryffindor table, acting as though nothing was about to happen. The time was quarter of seven. Few people were in the dining hall, but all of them were buzzing wildly with chatter. The twins were sure it was about their ingenious work on the posters. For Ron and Harry were giggling uncontrollably, describing all the sickest parts of Pansy's diary entry about Draco Malfoy. They waited patiently for eight o'clock to arrive as they slowly consumed their fried eggs, toast and bacon.

            Professor Snape strode in, whiter than usual, at one minute of eight. His fists were clenched, and his jaw was jutting forward angrily. The twins heard him mutter as he whisked by on his way to the table, his eyes on the floor. "Goddamn those little kids, getting up to their foolish pranks, I will NOT be portrayed in this manner…going to have a little chat with Dumbledore…"

            Dumbledore himself, seated at the head of the faculty table, was not looking happy, and not even a twinkle of the usual merry amusement sparkled in his blue eyes. The students began pouring in, most of them chattering and laughing, and the twins couldn't help but wonder if their prank had been such a good idea. Fred looked at his watch. Fifteen seconds…

            The Gryffindors, closest to the hall, heard anguished wailing outside. George grimaced, and hid his face. Pansy. Ten seconds…five…three…Fred used his wand to subtly turn up the volume. The poster just behind Snape's chair announced loudly to the world that "I am Pansy Pellicotta Parkinson, age fifteen…" George unconsciously groaned.

            Hermione, next to them, turned. "You two didn't have anything to do with this, _did_ you?" She eyes them suspiciously. "I have to admit, though funny and shaming for Slytherins, it wasn't very nice."

            George began to look sick, but he covered up, saying, "Uh, no, no, we didn't do anything. Not us. Probably some Hufflepuff, right, Fred?"

            "What? Oh, oh—yeah. Some Hufflepuff."

            Hermione's eyes narrowed.

            Up at the table, Sybill Trelawney worriedly rushed to comfort Snape, who looked ready to drop dead from embarrassment. "Oh, Severus! Are you okay? I will hurt the fiend who did this! I will report them to Dumbledore! Oh, Severus, do answer me!"

            The professor, tried desperately to shut his ears from the blaring poster, but couldn't help hearing, "He's tall, slender, and underneath the robes…" Trelawney sheltered him with her thin, spindly arms about his shoulders, tears of worry in her eyes. Her expression changed quickly, though, when she heard herself called a bitch…

            "My god! Miss Parkinson _wrote_ that about me? She was my favorite student!" And then she clapped a hand over her mouth and fainted dead away. Dumbledore shook his head, searching the crowd of half horrified, half amused students, his eyes seeking the guilty. They landed upon the Weasley twins, green-faced and cowering at their table. He made up his mind to have a word with them later…

            Snape had made up his mind to sit straight and sit the breakfast out, pretending not to hear the words issued from the poster behind him. But his thoughts were crazy. _My god! This is just sick! I can't believe my own student…a _Slytherin_…writes about having a crush on me! It's gross! Sickening! I shall never, ever look at her in the same light ever again! I wonder if this calls for a grade deduction…?_ And then, without warning, he threw up on his breakfast plate.

            "…I imagined him all naked, and wet, and dripping, his hair clinging to his hard muscular chest…"

            The Slytherins all ran to the exits of the hall, except for Malfoy, who just sat there, his meal deserted, howling in laughter, the tears in his eyes running down his cheeks. The Ravenclaws, refusing to take sides, were sitting in silence, eating as though nothing was happening. The Hufflepuffs were too nice and considerate to even think about gloating in the disgrace of a Slytherin, and so they calmly filed out of the hall. The Gryffindors were all, however, giggling and laughing until their sides hurt, yelling congratulations to the pranksters who had done the job—without a doubt, the Weasley twins. Fred and George just sat miserably in their impending doom listening to the raucous cheers emanating from their housemates and didn't have enough appetite to finish their breakfast. It was a blessing to all—except them—when the bells rang for classes.

            Dumbledore caught them on the way out, waiting until the stretcher containing Professor Trelawney was borne out by Argus Filch and Madam Pomfrey. "Fred, George—I have to say that, though I have enjoyed your usually harmless pranks for seven years…This time, I am deeply ashamed. Ashamed that two of my…brightest…students have gone so far as to tarnish the reputation of their fellow pupils as well as those of two wonderful faculty members. What you have done is disrespectful and deeply wounding, and there is a fine line between what sort of jokes are okay and not okay. You have crossed this line by a full kilometer, perhaps more. What you have posted on my school walls is profane, and could even cost me two fine teachers, should they be so embarrassed that they find that they must leave Hogwarts. I hope they will not.

            "Now, by the Gryffindor cheers you both received, I am assuming this was all you?" Dumbledore had each of his hands on Fred and George's shoulders. The hall was empty, and his voice reverberated off the walls loudly. Fred and George both nodded, their heads bowed in regret. But Fred spoke up.

            "Okay, I'm not trying to use a scapegoat here, but infact, there's another guy involved."

            "A Gryffindor, I presume?"

            "Err, no, actually…" Fred squirmed uneasily. Professor Dumbledore lowered his face dubiously and kept his two suspicious eyes on him.

            "Then, who was it?"

            "…it was Draco Malfoy, sir." When Dumbledore looked doubtful, Fred continued. "He paid us a bag full of galleons, and found all the stuff for us, and told us to do it. I swear."

            "A Slytherin…would pay two Gryffindors…to shame another Slytherin? I find this hard to believe, Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore's voice hardened. "Are you telling me the truth?"

            "Y-yes, Professor," George spoke feebly, stammering. He straightened himself and stopped cowering. "Yes."

            Dumbledore looked away, and removed his hands from the twins' shoulders. "Very well, then, I shall have a word with him. _"But"— _He added quickly, before they could leave, "This will not go unpunished. You both have detention, a week from today. Report to Argus Filch at the end of classes; he will assign your work. I expect you to remove this vandalism from my walls."

            "Yes, Professor," They chorused, and they grabbed their bags and hurried to Charms.

            "Draco Malfoy…"

            The boy sat slumped in a chair before Professor Dumbledore, refusing to meet his eye, but repressing a smile. "Yes, Professor. I think I know why I'm here."

            "Yes, I believe you do, from what the Weasleys have told me. So you paid them to vandalize my school with another Slytherin's private writings about two of my highly reputable teachers?"

            "Yes, I did."

            "Is there anything in particular that provoked you to do this?"

            "Nothing. I found it very funny, is all." He giggled, brushing away a strand of white-blond hair from his blue eyes. "Extremely funny."

            "And you are aware that many didn't?"

            "Yeah. Listen, I know you're gonna punish me. But whatever you do, don't tell my dad. He would tan my hide—or send me a Howler—for shaming someone in my house. Especially my former girlfriend."

            "There is nothing to keep me from informing Mr. Lucius Malfoy of your disturbing behavior, Draco."

            Draco went pale. "Oh, no, please don't, please…"

            "I'm afraid that is what will have to happen, Draco. And you owe a detention to Argus Filch one week from today. Report to him after classes. Is that clear?"

            "Sure, Professor. And—one more thing—I'm not the one who made Pansy in love with Snape."

            "_Professor_ Snape. Really—and who—or what—did?" Dumbledore sighed, rubbing his temples. He really didn't want to hear student gossip stories…but, he let Draco talk.

            "Well…don't ask me how I know, you don't want to hear…but see, it all started when Seamus, Dean, and Harry made a love potion for Professor Snape to fall in love with Professor Trelawney, because Professor Trelawneyhad been complaining that Professor Snape never paid attention to her and she was in love with him. The potion worked, as you can see…" He faltered, seeing that Dumbledore was calm, but visibly angry. His blue eyes were cold as ice as he listened in silence. "But it was only set for a week. They gave the potion to him one day after the Hogsmeade trip at Halloween, I believe, because that was when we saw a change. But after the week was up, Professor Snape was still in love with Professor Trelawney. He even…" Draco shuddered. "…He even gave himself a makeover. Weren't you wondering why his hair was always slicked back? The day after _that_ happened, Pansy handed me her notes for potions so I could know how to chop up the willow roots. When I spilled dragon spittle all over the parchment, I saw through to the other side where there was more writing. That was the first love letter…and then I found another…and so I searched that night for Pansy's diary and found the entries about Professor Snape." There, he had gotten it all out.

            It took Dumbledore a long time to reply. "If this fantastical tale of yours you told is true…_if_…well, then I shall have a word with Messrs Dean, Seamus, and Harry. If their story agrees with yours, they share detention with you. As for Pansy—I want you to apologize to her in full. Nicely. I will summon her now. You, stay right here and wait, Mr. Malfoy." The headmaster stalked off angrily, and as he left the room, Draco smirked. _I never get in trouble without dragging Gryffindors down with me. Good thing what I told him was true…_

            As the day waned, only one person was slightly satisfied, and that was Pansy after she made that filthy Draco Malfoy cower at her feet begging for forgiveness. Served him right, going around and spreading her secrets. She couldn't believe he'd done it though, at first, until he'd confirmed Dumbledore's firm allegations. They had been a couple last year, until Draco had broken up with her because he would be away during the summer break. She had forgiven him then, too.

            However, she was still deeply embarrassed. What did Professor Snape think of her? He would not possibly love her, not after this. Not when he knew that all she did in potions class was stare at him and drool and have dirty fantasies. He would never see her in the same light again…and not any of Pansy's money could change that. For the first time in her life, Pansy's riches were useless.

            This time around, Pansy knew she could not wreak revenge on the despicable scum Malfoy. She would have to be satisfied with his Howler at breakfast, and his detention. No use lowering herself to Malfoy's level, simply out of the question. No—she would hold her head high, and pretend that nothing had happened. She was too good to let Draco drag her into self-denial and eternal shame. And plus, there was that silly Gryffindor's birthday party to crash next week anyhow. That Granger Mudblood. Nothing _bad,_ per se, but enough to ruin her stupid little party…

TO BE CONTINUED…


	7. The Birthday Party

Hogwarts Gets Wild!

Machiavella of Kingsport

A Harry Potter Fic

Chapter 8: The Birthday Party

            Hermione was incredibly excited; this was the first time she had ever held a birthday party with her Hogwarts friends. It had always been, in the four years before, just simple cards from home and small gifts like tooth whitener, a personal dental kit, and books on teeth. And before Hogwarts, there were the family dinners at restaurants, just her and her parents, but they never let the waiters send to the kitchens for a cake or ice cream. That was just the way it was…and Hermione was sick of it.

            So a week before the fifth of October, she sent out invitations to all her girl friends—this was going to be a classic all-girl party, with giggling and sugary foods and such. She couldn't wait. The invitations were a pretty sky-blue, with white lace doily around the edges, and her own handwriting, in perfect, neat blue script. On her list were Lavender Brown, Parvati and Padma Patil, Eloise Midgen, Cho Chang, Lola Fernandez, Ginny Weasley, and Hannah Abbott. A perfectly nice assortment, she said to herself, and waited patiently for replies.

            Of course, on the day of the delivery of invitations, Lola happened to be sitting next to Harry and Ron when she received it. Ron and Harry read over her shoulder, and then Ron rounded on Hermione.

            "Hey Herm, you're having a party and you didn't invite us? That's not very nice!"

            "Yeah!" Harry backed him up, poking her shoulder. "And besides, you never told us when your birthday was! We coulda got you something!"

            Hermione went red, her head low. "It's an all girl party…"

            "Oh, one of _those…"_ Ron rolled his eyes. "Ginny has those for her birthday in the summer, and god…the shrieking…sometimes I really wonder what they get up to at those things…"

            If Hermione's face had been very red to start, it was doubly so now. "You're not supposed to know! It's…it's…"

            Ron rolled his eyes again. "…A _girl_ thing," He finished for her. "I suppose I'll never know. _Women_…" He threw his hands up and went back to his breakfast.

            "Well, still, you could have at least told us when your birthday was. We _are_ your friends, after all. I'm going to get you something." Harry nodded satisfactorily and wiped his mouth with his napkin, scraping the rest of the eggs off his plate.

            Lola, who had long since finished reading the invitation and who had been silently laughing at Ron and Harry, turned to Hermione, leaning behind the two boys. "So it's the fifth? At six?"

            "Yeah. And bring fun stuff, like magazines or something, if you don't mind. I have a couple of plans now, but I don't really know what to do for one of these parties."

            "Well, I could help you there." Lola hid a giggle discreetly, reminiscing about her days back in Salem. "Have you never had one before?"

            "Well, no. All my friends used to but my parents never let me go. They were so uptight. All I remember is watching them all buying magazines and nail polish from the pharmacy before going, like some sort of pagan ritual…"

            "Hah! Pagan ritual! That's great…I've never heard it described that way before. But yeah. Come with me for a sec, and I can tell you the sort of thing that goes on." Lola grinned and eyed Ron and Harry, who had innocent but eager looks on their faces. Hermione followed her to the hallway outside. "So—have you ever played truth or dare?"

            "Er…should I have?"

            "…Never mind. Truth or dare—um, you take turns daring people to do something rather gross, or taboo, that they normally wouldn't do. Or if they opt for truth, you ask them a personal question. Simple enough?" Hermione nodded. "Okay. Then…um…well, this is awkward, but usually someone starts talking about boys, and then people talk about their dreams about the mentioned boys…and…well, yeah. Do you know what I'm getting at, Hermione?"

            Hermione blushed. "I think so…um…would it be like talking about something straight out of Pansy's diary?"

            Lola was barely able to hold in her laughter for fear that someone might overhear the conversation. "Pretty much. And then, well, there's quizzes from magazines and usually someone paints toenails or fingernails or something…and people watch romance movies."

            "The movies might be hard to do…" Hermione murmured thoughtfully.

            "How so?"

            "Didn't you ever read 'Hogwarts, A History'?" Hermione gasped in disbelief.

            Lola groaned…

            But Hermione had figured out an alternative. In a spell book written by a human wizard, called "Wizardry and Technology" that she had found, the author described how one could rent the movie of choice, and then tap the cassette with their wand and say "Copy". Supposedly the movie would copy itself into the wand, and when it needed to be played, the witch/wizard could set the wand on a high shelf and point it at a blank white wall, saying "projecto". The movie would play on the wall as though the wall were a projection screen. Hermione's only problem was that she didn't know what movie her guests would like. After all—the majority of her party attendees hadn't even seen a movie before. 

            After much decision, Hermione owled her parents at home and asked them to send to her the movie "Practical Magic". It was an American film, with a good combination of witchcraft and romance that she was sure anyone could enjoy. She received it two days before her party, and she was so excited that she shivered with delight. This would be a real surprise for her fellow witches…and of course, her parents had also recently sent her the monthly editions of the various muggle teen magazines she subscribed to. One of them had a large picture and fold out poster of the newly debuted actor Orlando Bloom. Her friends were sure to like this!

            The night of the party, Hermione selected an unused classroom near the library with whitewashed walls. She magicked the chairs and desks away into a different room, and magically furnished the classroom with a plush rug and a few armchairs and couches. On a table in the center were bowls of potato crisps, dip, soda, and candies—among which were Honeyduke's chocolates, tooth-flossing string mints, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, and more sweets smuggled in from Hogsmeade, thanks to the Weasley twins the night before. The pumpkin juice she had gotten from the kitchens (though at last minute resignation, because she still abhorred the thought of using house elves).

            Leaving the room, she set out to pick up her friends. Lola, Parvati, Lavender, and Ginny were all waiting in the Gryffindor common room, and with them she met Eloise and Hannah in the hall. Cho and Padma caught up with the girls between the library and the room, and so Hermione ushered the giggling girls into the room. What she hadn't expected, however, were gifts.

            "Oh, no," she protested, as the girls set their gifts on a chair. "Really, I don't need gifts! I—I"—

            Lola hushed her. "Hermione, we don't care. We're giving you gifts anyway!" She grinned evilly. "Whether you like it or not!"

            "But"—

            "No buts. Friends are supposed to give their friends birthday gifts. And besides, you deserve them!" Lola hugged her, and then sat her down on the nicest armchair in the room, seating herself on a couch with Parvati, Padma, and Lavender. Eloise, Hannah, and Ginny all lay on the floor, and Cho sat quietly on a footstool. Hermione gave in and grinned.

            "Let's get this party started!"

In the trophy room were George, Fred, Ron, Harry, Dean, Seamus, and Draco. Draco glared hatefully at all of them, his arms crossed stubbornly. "I will _not_ help you polish the goddamn shield!"

            "Oh, yes, you will," Fred growled, gripping the insolent fifth-year's shoulders. "This is your fault too, whether you like it or not. Look; Harry and all them are busy doing their detention work, but you—you who paid us to do the most despicable thing, and are in the most trouble—refuse to do your share."

            "Hey, you didn't have to accept my money. You didn't have to do what I told you. You thought it was funny. It's your fault you were so bloody stupid, you bloody fucking muggle-lovers! It's not your place to boss me around!" Draco was red with rage as he stamped his feet, his eyes squinted furiously.

            George rolled his eyes. "My god, Fred, let's not bother with this dark art-practicing scum. Look at him—so immature, throwing a little temper tantrum because he's too _high-and-mighty_ to get down and do some honest-to-god work! We have better things to do. Malfoy, why don't you just keep wasting your time, buddy. Filch will just make you do more work later on."

            Malfoy looked about to spit fire, and he opened his mouth to comment, but he decided for the better and sat dejectedly on the floor beside his bucket and sponge. After glaring balefully at the Gryffindors for a while, he finally reached a tentative hand into his bucket, grabbed the sponge, and listlessly wiped it around on a golden cup. _God, why doesn't someone come liven up this bloody party?_

"Cho—truth or dare?" Lola asked, grinning deviously. It was good the other girls hardly knew what she was about. Lola just had to know if she had competition with this girl when it came to Harry. She had heard Ron teasing him about Cho the other day, and many times before, and was wondering if he liked Cho more than her. Of course, even more the question at hand was whether or not Cho liked_ Harry…_that would make all the difference. She prayed that Cho would say…

            "Truth."

            Lola pretended to think for a second before asking. "Okay…do you like Harry? And you can't chicken out this time! You've chickened out on all your dares so far."

            Cho blushed horribly, hiding her face. "Umm…Uhh…Umm…I don't know…"

            "Oh, what kind of an answer is that?" Ginny interjected, giggling. " We want the details!"

            "Er…oh, fine! I like Harry." The last sentence was hardly audible as she hid her face in a cushion.

            "We didn't hear you!" Lola murmured, grinning. Her eyes sparkled mischievously.

            "I like him!" Cho said at last, practically shouting, and then clapped a hand over her mouth and looked around to make sure no one had passed by and heard. Lola seethed inwardly while the girls broke into peals of mirth, and waited for Cho's challenge to another person.

            Fred and George Weasley were so fed up with Draco that they had decided to ditch detention for the Gryffindor common room, disregarding the fact that McGonagall could possible catch them. Sitting in front of the fire in plush red armchairs, they laughed and made fun of Malfoy.

            "…Seriously! I can't believe he actually PAID us to get another Slytherin! Especially Pansy…"

            "He must like her or something…I mean, he must be jealous that she likes Snape…"

            "Perhaps…but it's an odd way of…"

            The two of them continued to banter over Draco's motives.

            "Parvati and Lavender—truth or dare?" Ginny asked.

            "Dare," they chorused. Ginny grinned diabolically and laughed to herself. Perfect.

            "I dare you to…strip tease for my twin brothers!"

            "Eeek! Are you SERIOUS?" squealed Lavender, covering her mouth in half-horror, half-amusement.

            "Hey, they aren't all that bad, you know…they're the cute ones in the family, after all…" Parvati mused thoughtfully.

            And the most sick-minded, Ginny added silently. God knows they'd love to see two girls strip for them. But that's not the point.

            "I guess you're right…"

            "C'mon, Lavender, let's do it!"

            In just five minutes' time, the conversation had gone from Draco's secret motive to who was more likely to get a girl in bed. 

            "Oh, come on, George, we both know that guys named Fred are more likely to get laid. George is just such a prudish name, any girl would just assume you're a little goody two-shoes."

            "Oh, as if your NAME is going to get you in bed," George scoffed. "I'VE got an Anaconda down there! And you've probably got a little garter snake…"

            "What? Me, that small?" Fred raged. "Why, I'VE got a KOMODO DRAGON!"

            Nervously, Lavender whispered the Gryffindor password and stepped inside. Parvati was close behind. Both of them immediately spotted the two raging redheaded twins, one of which was in a headlock. The other screamed, "Don't you dare, EVER, to insult my manly prowess! It's not as if YOU'VE been in bed with me before! Just ask Angelina—she can tell you…"

            "What, Fred…" George gasped. "…That you get so nervous that you can't get a bloody erection?"

            "Why, you little…"

            "Um, excuse me, Fred…" Parvati tapped Fred on the shoulder, speaking in a husky low voice and using her Indian accent. Fred instantly released George from his tight clutches and straightened awkwardly.

            "Yes, sexy bitch—I mean, Parvati?" Over by the other chair, George was staring at Lavender in a most obvious way, and was purple enough to convince anyone that he had forgotten to breathe. Lavender giggled.

            "Hi, _George…_"

            He found his voice. "H-hi, Lavender…Um…how are you on this lovely day? Heheh…"

            Without a word further, the girls began toying with the zippers on their robes. Fred and George's eyes followed their every movement. "Oh, mother of god," they chorused, both breathing heavily. And a minute later: "SWEET!!!"

            The hyper sugar-high girls raced to get the door at the sound of a knock. Outside were the sloppily dressed friends Lavender and Parvati. 

            _"Did you do it?" _shrieked the partygoers. Two simultaneous nods were sufficient for another bout of wild screaming to ensue.

            Neville sat on his bed, studying for the potions test the next day. A lock of brown hair flopped into his face, and he brushed it out of the way. His toad croaked from in the dent in the pillow, and Neville absentmindedly patted its head. _To make any truth potion, the one ingredient that the maker must never leave out is ethanol (ethyl alcohol). A key ingredient of mead as well, it loosens the tongue of a human, as well as parts of the mind that should always be tightly locked, and often the drinker will find himself talking about things he would never speak of normally…_Oh boy, Neville thought, good thing I didn't drink that while Ginny was around. If she knew what I thought about her…what I dreamed of her…Oh boy. Oh boy. That would not be good. He continued scanning the book for more possible areas of study, but now that he'd thought of Ginny, he couldn't stop fantasizing…

            Padma was lost. I really wish Ginny had said truth, she complained inwardly. With a sigh, she racked her brains for a good dare. "OH, I don't know…" She said the first thing that came to her. "I dare you to find Neville and ask him out."

            Ginny shouted. "Argh!!!! I couldn't, though! He'd never say yes! And I'd be…." Her voice got very small all of a sudden. "…And I'd be so depressed if he didn't."

            "Oh, that's so cute, little Ginny has unrequited love," crooned Lola teasingly. She pinched her cheek.

            "Oh, stop that…" Ginny muttered, her face bright red. She held her hands clasped tightly in her lap, and wrung them nervously. "I just…couldn't ask him out."

            "Aw, come on!" Lola said indignantly. "You can't always have fear of rejection, you know. Because then you'll never take chances in life, and you'll never know what it feels like to be loved. Just do it! Do it for us."

            "Yes!" Hermione said, supporting her, "You ought to do it, if you like him so much! Come on!"          

            Ginny sat for a few minutes in tense silence. The girls waited tentatively for her answer. 

            "…"

            "…"

            "Alright, fine, I'll do it," she muttered. An animated cheer arose in the room.

            "We're coming with you!" Cho declared, marching after her as Ginny slouched out the door. The girls trailed behind, giggling quietly.

            Unable to concentrate, Neville walked to the common room and poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher by the door. He drank slowly and stopped in between sips to stare half-consciously at the various paintings on the walls. Over in the corner, he spotted Fred and George Weasley, who were silent for once, staring straight ahead, as though in a trance. George was drooling. Neville gave them a small wave, but they didn't respond. He shook his head and dismissed it. They must be really tired tonight, he thought, unfazed.

            The door to the common room slid open. Neville took no notice of the shadow of a person moving closer to him every second. He only sipped his water, and observed a windblown Scottish landscape on the wall in the other direction. He jumped when he felt a tap on his shoulder. His water glass flew from his hand and landed unbroken but spilt on the carpet. "Aah! What the—"

            As he whipped around, a redheaded girl shrank shyly. Ginny. He stopped dead and shivered. Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh boy. Oh boy. What do I do now? What?

            "Neville…I wanted to ask you something…" Ginny whispered, staring at the floor. 

            Could it be? Could it possibly be?

            "I wanted to know if…if you'd go out with me." Her eyes never left the floor.

            Neville whooped, danced in circles, and punched the air. "Woohoo! Woohoo! Sweeeeeet!"

            Ginny laughed nervously. "Is that a yes?"

            "Uh huh! Yes, it is! It's a yes! Yup yup!" He jumped up and down and flailed his arms. He didn't stop until Ginny grabbed his shoulders.

            "Whoa, calm down, Neville. Calm down."

            "But I just can't!" He started getting antsy again, but Ginny kept her hands firmly on his shoulders.

            "Now how am I supposed to kiss you if you can't stand still?"

            "Ooh! Neville gets a present!" He clapped his hands excitedly. "Wheeee—OOMPH!"

            Their lips were locked for the next five minutes or so, and afterwards, they clasped hands.

            "Wow, I can't believe you're my girlfriend," Neville said, grinning. He hugged her happily, squeezing the breath out of her.

            After she quietly made her excuses and left, Neville skipped over to Fred and George. " Hey! Hey, Fred! George! Guess what? Ginny asked me out! Your sister asked me out!"

            Finally conscious, Fred turned his head to face him. "Shut up, Neville, we're reminiscing." In the next chair over, George continued to drool, adding to the puddle on his chest.

            "You REALLY want something disgusting? Are you sure?" Ginny asked, grinning.

            "I'm POSITIVE." Hermione was ready for anything.

            "Only fools are positive," Ginny said.

            "Are you sure?"

            "I'm POSITIVE," she replied. Then she thought for a second. "Um, wait a minute…"

            "Ha! Gotcha."

            "Damn!"

            "Well, dare me already!"

            "Are you really so eager? You don't know what you're getting yourself into, you've used up all of your chickens."

            "Yes! Just…just do it!" Hermione was laughing exasperatedly. What could possibly be so bad?

            There was a moment of silence. Ginny's grin only got wider and wider with every second. When finally she spoke, Hermione was filled with such a feeling of disgust and revolt that she nearly retched on the nice purple plush carpet. The other girls shrieked, horrified.

            "I dare you to kiss Malfoy. On the lips, tongue, touchy-feely, the works."

            When Hermione had regained the ability to speak without puking, she choked out, "You CAN'T be serious. I do NOT want to do this. This is going too far."

            "You said you wanted a really disgusting dare. I gave you one." Ginny was still grinning, but with a most evil glint in her brown eyes.

            "But—see—MALFOY? No, you just—you just CAN'T make me kiss him, not him, not ever, ever, ever!"

            "If I have to drug you and put you through the motions, I will," Ginny warned.

            "You're sounding really serious now, Ginny," Hermione said shakily. By now the spark in Ginny's eyes was like a flame, and the grin on her face seemed almost sinister.

            "I am, I am."

            "What's your motive?" Padma asked, suspiciously.

            "Yeah, why are you so intent on Hermione kissing Malfoy?" Cho's stare was calculating and questioning.

            "What did I ever do to you?" Hermione whined, almost won over, convinced that if she refused to kiss Malfoy, Ginny would murder her in her sleep or something similar.

            "I'm sorry, all of you, but that is a question that cannot be answered. If Draco knew I'd told any of you, I would likely not see tomorrow."

            "Do I REALLY have to do this?"

            Ginny's grin was back to normal. "What do you think, Hermione?"

            Draco had finally consented to help Harry, Dean, Seamus, and Ron in mending the school banner. The sewing was tedious and slow; none of the boys were particularly skilled at it, and many a drop of blood had been shed in attempts to use the needle and thread provided. Still glaring and acting sulky, Draco would always throw at them the objects they requested. There wasn't much that the Gryffindors could do about it, because Draco knew more curses than all of them put together. There was no telling what he'd do if one of them yelled at him. But, so wrapped up in their babyish contempt for one another, none of them noticed when a train of quiet girls slipped into the trophy room and took their places behind giant brass cups, hiding themselves in the shadows.

            Only one girl, with bushy brown hair and a very pale freckled face padded silently over the boys. The Gryffindors' backs were toward her, so when she was close enough that the most oblivious would see her, only Draco looked up. His blue eyes widened, and his sneer disappeared. He looked as though he had just seen the bloody baron. He jabbed the needle into his thumb, and didn't even seem to care. He scrambled away from her, his mouth hanging open. Only then did the Gryffindor boys turn. 

            "Oh, hey Hermione!"

            "What's up?"

            Hermione ignored them, and walked around the banner. Draco stumbled backwards on his feet, and backed into a trophy. There he stood gulping, and breathing heavily. Hermione was a little confused. What was the act for? What the hell was he so afraid of? The little wimp, she thought in contempt. She kept walking until they were just inches apart.

            "Hey, Harry, what do you think she's doing?" Ron asked, confused, jabbing his neighbor with his elbow.

            "I'm not at all sure…Let's watch and see."

            Draco's eyes were closed, not tightly, but closed. He looked as though he was going to swoon. What is his problem? Hermione wondered. With her right hand she reached for his face, and she let it rest there, her fingers entwined in his icy blonde hair. My god, this is so gross. Slowly, her eyes screwed up tight, she let her mouth find his. Tentatively she let her tongue explore Draco's mouth. Surprised was she to find that Draco was responding…

            Draco, now awake from his half-slumber, grabbed Hermione by the waist, and let his other hand rest on her breast. He kissed back passionately. Looks like he's doing more kissing than I am, Hermione thought, bewildered. Without really thinking, her left hand found a place on Draco's shoulder, and she went along with it.

            The Gryffindor boys watched all this in stupefied horror. Hermione and Draco, seemingly in fits of passion, were stumbling around the room blindly, their lips locked as though welded together. 

            "Um, Harry, I really hope Hermione and Draco aren't doing what I think they're doing…" Ron moaned jealously.

            "Shut up, you horndog, we all know you just want a piece of Hermione…like Draco does, I guess…" Harry looked a little green. "Really, I think she needs better taste in men."

            "Why not me? Why not me?" Ron moaned again.

            "She must be on drugs," Harry suggested. "That's got to be it."

            Behind a trophy, Ginny whispered to Lavender and Cho on either side of her. "Really, I thought she wasn't going to enjoy this. They've been going for…" She checked her watch. "…Holy shit! They've been going for ten minutes already! Jesus! Do you know if they've come up for air yet?"

            "They haven't…" Lavender broke into silent giggles. "God, this is better than watching my parents!"

            "…"

            "…"

            "YOU WATCH YOUR PARENTS? YOU SICK FREAK!!!" Ginny whispered shrilly. She gagged. "Excuse me while I throw up…"

            Hermione couldn't believe it…this was great! Draco was a wonderful kisser…The two of them were on the floor, Draco on top of her, still thrusting his tongue into her mouth. He tasted like raspberries. Tangy but sweet…

            Ron couldn't take it any more. "OH, WILL YOU TWO GET A ROOM?!"

            With a saucy grin, Hermione disengaged herself from the entanglement. "No!"

            Draco, still apparently in heaven (his eyes were closed, and he had a dreamy smile plastered on his pale face), slowly awoke from his fantasy land. "Hey, Hermione?"

            "Yeah, Draco?" Hermione stroked his cheek with a slender finger lovingly.

            "Want to go steady?"

            "You know what Draco?" asked Hermione. "Why the hell not?"

TO BE CONTINUED…


	8. Luscious Nectarine

Hogwarts Gets Wild!

Machiavella of Kingsport

Chapter 9: Luscious Nectarine

            It wasn't until later, back in her room, that Hermione realized she wasn't just Draco's girlfriend. There was Krum. 'Shit,' she thought, and ran a hand through her bushy brown hair. How could she have forgotten? Oh right, because she hadn't heard anything from Krum since mid-summer, when she went back to London from his home. And then she had an idea.

            Well, if Krum couldn't be bothered to write her or answer her letters, he obviously didn't deserve to have her. So she would write him another letter breaking up with him, and if he didn't write back, he didn't care if she went out with Draco. Right? Wait. _Draco? Hermione Granger, victim of so many jeers and taunts over the years from that stuck-up, rich britches Draco…was going_ out_ with him?_ Hermione grabbed her bedpost, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. All of this was so wrong…   

            Yet she recalled Snape and Trelawney…_there_ was an odd couple. If they could do it, then why couldn't she and Draco be a couple, too? Her conscience restored, Hermione set about searching for parchment and a quill. She found them in her school sack and flopped down on her bed, wondering how to start. Would she try to sound friendly and easy-going, or would she try to be apologetic? Or maybe accusatory? It was a hard decision. Probably best not to sound angry, because Krum certainly could have a temper, and if she sounded too friendly, that could also be a problem. Apologetic was definitely the way to go. She started writing:

_Dear Viktor,_

            I've begun to realize that we don't have much of a relationship anymore. It has been months since I've seen you, or heard from you, and I can't just throw away this part of my life attached to someone I never see…

            No. All of that was just dancing around the point. Hermione had to tell him the truth. All of that was true, but with that kind of a beginning, she would never get around to telling him that she had found someone else. She tried again.

_Dear Viktor,_

_            I don't think our kind of relationship is going to work out. I don't feel the same way about you anymore, and I have found someone new. His name is Draco Malfoy. I felt you ought to know, even though you haven't written back to me at all, and we haven't seen each other since mid-summer. _

_            So I am breaking up with you. I hope you aren't angry, because I want us to still be friends. I'm sorry I had to end it this way, but there was no other way to tell you. Please write back to me, I need to know that you have received the letter, and that you know what's happened. _

_                                                                        Your Friend Always,_

_                                                                        Hermione Granger_

            This version of the letter seemed to work. Hermione got up to get an envelope and sealing wax when, suddenly, tears began to well up in her eyes. 'I feel so horrible doing this to him!' she thought dejectedly. She felt like a traitor. 'I should have known it wouldn't be this easy…'

            The door to the room opened and Hermione's head came up with a start. She sniffled, wiping the tears away from her red, puffy brown eyes. The girl entering the room was Lavender.

            "Oh, Hermione! What's wrong?" she exclaimed. She ran to the sobbing wreck and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. Hermione was grateful for the warmth and concern. She needed to tell _someone._ The two girls sat on the rumpled sheets, the letter lying curled up on the end of the bed. The story came out in broken sobs punctuated by wails of sadness and Lavender's coos of pity, although the pity was more that Hermione was now going out with a disgusting snob like Draco rather than that Hermione had to make her first break-up. 

            "I'm so sorry," she said finally, because it was all she could think of to say without offending Hermione or making her feel worse. 

*           *           *

            Later that evening, near midnight, Ron burst into the Gryffindor common room, his face a nasty shade of purple. "WHERE IS THAT HERMIONE GRANGER?" he bellowed, his legs spread apart and his hands clenched in hard fists. The only witnesses to the scene were his older twin brothers, who acknowledged his presence with a mere nod of the head. Calmly they told him she had gone to her room, in all likelihood. 

            Ron stomped up the staircase, knowing he shouldn't be in the girls' dormitory but not really caring. "HERMIONE? WHERE ARE YOU, I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!" He kicked open the door to her room, robes flying and flaming hair askew. When he saw her tear streaked face, he fell silent and took a sheepish posture, a bit ashamed. But when she stood up angrily, leaving Lavender sitting on her bed, Ron puffed up again, ready to explode. He had no idea that there were viewers in the hallway, half-asleep and looking annoyed and rather mutinous. 

            "Can't you keep your voice down? It's the middle of the night!" Hermione whispered harshly. "Whatever this is, I'm sure it can wait until tomorrow!" The people standing behind Ron all had their arms crossed threateningly. Ron looked wildly about him.

            "I don't care! _We _need to _talk!" He insisted, his hands still balled up into fists._

            "About what?" Hermione asked nonchalantly. 

            "About…about us…and, and Malfoy!" All at once his purple face changed to red. "I didn't mean for it too sound like that…" He turned to face the viewers he was now aware of, staring holes into his back. "It's NOT what it sounds like!"

            Even the interrupted sleepers felt inclined to chuckle evilly at that one.

            Ron turned back to Hermione embarrassedly. "Any case, Hermione, we NEED TO TALK!"

            "Oh, sod off, if you're going to be this way, I won't talk to you at all. Go to sleep. You're pissing people off. I'm not going to get into whatever mess you've concocted."

            "How can you talk to me that way? I thought we HAD something! And there you were, tonight, you—you WRONGED me! I can't believe you dumped me for that—that Malfoy scum!"

            Hermione was confused. "Wait, dumped…you? What's going on here?"

            Ron's face twisted and he began crying. "I THOUGHT WE HAD SOMETHING SPECIAL!" He screamed. Shouts of  "Shut up!" floated up from around the dormitories, and he looked a bit cowed. "Any case," he said a bit quieter, "You shouldn't have just pushed me to the side like that! WE HELD HANDS! You can't deny that, we EVEN HELD HANDS! And now you think you can just go around kissing whomever you want, and you don't care one whit about me!"

            A bit coldly, Hermione replied, "And where do YOU fit into all of this? It's none of YOUR business as to whom I'm kissing! And as for 'something special,' I DON'T know what you're talking about!"

            Ron sniffled, wiping his nose with his hand. "You…you mean to say…that is…I mean, I…we weren't going out?"

            There was silence. All quiet on the front until:

            "WHAT?!!!!!!!!!!!"

            Ron cringed.

            "GOING OUT? I DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU GET YOUR CRAZY IDEAS, RON, BUT THIS TIME, I'M NOT EXCUSING YOU! WE WERE NEVER GOING OUT!" Hermione's hair was flying and her face was twisted with rage. Her voice got very quiet and threatening. "You had better pray for your life that I don't find out you've been spreading lies about us or something nasty like that, or…or I will read EVERY curse book I lay my hands on until I find something torturous enough to make you WISH you were in Azkaban! I simply can't believe this…"

            Ron was not the only one trying to shrink into being invisible; Lavender crouched on Hermione's bed still, covering her ears and squeezing her eyes shut. Ron whimpered. "But…but I loved you…"

            For a long moment Hermione's face went slack and her jaw dropped. Ron shook and a single tear slid down his freckled cheek, pale as the moon. And then her face hardened again, and with her teeth gritted in a horribly angry grimace, she slammed the bedroom door in Ron's face. Lavender cringed as she stomped furiously over to her bed, threw herself on her pillow, and screamed. It was the worst possible ending to a sixteenth birthday.

*           *           *

            The letter to Krum was sent the next morning by cold, hurried hands, and Hermione struggled to keep from thinking. She threw herself into her studies and even ignored Draco. She refused to speak to Ron, and she only regretted it a little when she coolly avoided Harry's questioning glances. The girls surrounded her, asking her what was the matter, putting soft, flitting arms around her shoulders, but Hermione threw them off and hurried to her classes. The people who had witnessed the row the night before avoided her like the plague. The day refused to end. But that was all Hermione wanted.

            That evening, after her work was finished, she hurriedly changed into her nightgown and gathered her things, marching in a cloud of oblivion to the bathroom to brush her teeth, and she almost didn't notice when a hand placed itself on her elbow. Then she stopped.

            "Who's there?" She turned around, expecting to find another girl offering condolences, but instead, there stood Draco. "H…hello." All of her composure slipped away.

            "Regretting something?" Draco asked, unusually sympathetic for his kind of person.

            "Oh, everything…" Hermione stared at the floor.

            "Last night, by any chance?"

            "Yes…" Hermione paused. "I mean…no, just…it wasn't you! It was…something else."

            Draco still looked slightly dejected. "You're still probably going to tell me it isn't going to work out. I can tell by the way you avoided me today. That's fine, I completely understand"—His voice was muffled by the girl who wrapped him in a tight embrace. He slowly hugged her back, but his eyes were wide open, confused. She stepped back, forcing a smile.

            "No, no, Draco, it's nothing like that. Just…stuff from my past, I guess."

            He was taken aback. "Then you still…?"

            "Yeah."

            There was an awkward moment of silence between them, and then Draco spoke up, shyly and warily. "Is there something you want to talk to me about?" He certainly wasn't used to being this nice to people, especially people who weren't even fully wizard….but he couldn't help his feelings. It was something new, and something better than the life he'd been leading under the strict tutelage of his father. These feelings he had were going to make him change, and he was going to help them along as best he could.

            Hermione loosened, and relaxed. "Yes, I would love to talk."

*           *           *

            A week later, all troubles had been forgotten and placed on a shelf in the back of Hermione's mind, except that Ron still wasn't talking to her, and Harry had been avoiding her. In fact, most of Gryffindor had, since the news about her and Draco had gotten around. But for a day, most of that was ignored as everyone got hyped up for the Slytherin versus Gryffindor quidditch match. It was of course the match of the year, always, since the two teams were the toughest in the school. Most of the Slytherins went around with their faces painted green with black all around their eyes like ghouls, and many of the Gryffindor boys carried around makeshift wooden shields with red lions painted on the front, except the latter were usually condoned inside classrooms by exasperated teachers who were hiding their own excitement for the match.

            The classes were let out an hour early as Professor Dumbledore called everyone down to the fields. Much cheering and yelling ensued as students raced to fetch pompoms and streamers and banners. Only Hermione was unaffected by the excitement. Or rather, she was again tormented. She was dating a Slytherin, to whom she was much devoted, but she was in Gryffindor house…'Oh bloody hell,' she thought, suddenly not caring, and then tied her hair back into a bun, magicked it green, and changed her face a little so that she blended in wherever she went. She would be a Slytherin today. 

She ran down to the field and took a place in the Slytherin stands unnoticed, just in time to see the teams march in. Outside it was a glorious fall day—warm, slightly breezy, and the mid-afternoon sun cast long shadows on the verdant green lawns. The lake was glassy and calm as the trees of the Forbidden Forest waved at the tops. Not even team rivalry would shake the cheer of Hermione Granger, Slytherin fifth year. With a blast of Madam Hooch's whistle, the teams faced off and rose into the air. Lola Fernandez took her place at the hoops, and Harry and Draco sneered a bit at each other, as usual, flitting about on their matching Firebolts.

The play began, and the quaffle was thrown about. The bludgers hurtled through the air, and the snitch was of course nowhere to be found…yet. The Slytherins scored the first ten points, and Hermione almost forgot to cheer until she remembered that she was a Slytherin that afternoon. She screamed heartily and grinned, clapping her hands. But when Gryffindor scored the next ten points, she refrained from booing with the rest of 'her' house—it was a bit _too _disloyal. The game wore on, and for every goal the Gryffindors got, try as their keeper did, she couldn't help every goal that the Slytherins matched. An hour and a half passed; the crowd wasn't cheering as heartily, and the players were beginning to look tired.

And then Hermione perked up. She was no quidditch player, and she certainly wasn't a seeker, but right in front of Lola was the snitch, flitting about tauntingly just a meter or two away. Hermione wondered if anyone else saw it, and then her questions were answered—Harry stopped in midair as he dodged a bludger, and then aimed his broomstick toward his team's keeper. Draco noticed, alarmed, and then chased after him. Hermione clenched her fists anxiously and raised a cheer throughout the Slytherins.

"Come on, Draco! Come on! You can do it!" she screamed. But suddenly her attention was turned by the laughing crowd to the Gryffindor seeker, Lola—_shirtless!_ Harry, who had been ahead, fell off his broom with his mouth gaping open and hurtled toward the ground at an alarming speed. The rest of the Slytherins laughed and rolled in the aisles as Draco caught both the snitch and Harry's broomstick. Harry was luckily caught by Madam Hooch before he hit the ground, and Draco's victory went almost unnoticed as he circled to the field with his team. Even Draco was barely containing his laughter. Hermione burst into embarrassed giggles and covered her mouth shyly, until…

"LOLA FERNANDEZ, REPORT TO MY OFFICE IMMEDIATELY!" Professor McGonagall had taken over the loudspeaker, and Lee Jordan had been shoved out of his seat. As if the laughter throughout the stadium had been a soundtrack, it was quieted simultaneously, within the instant, although most of the students were still fighting to keep a straight face. Hermione certainly was…Lola was flat on the ground, shaking uncontrollably and cackling with glee, even though her team had just lost. McGonagall flew down the flights of stairs from the tower and stomped over to the prone figure and grabbed an arm, yanking up the mischievous keeper. The crowds and Hermione left for the dining hall, and the teams tried not to break into laughter again as they filed into the changing rooms.

*           *           *

Lola got detention, scheduled for the next week to do all of the laundry by hand with the house elves. But she didn't mind—she was famous. All of the boys wanted to know her, Lee Jordan had asked her out (only to be declined of course, because Lola only had Harry on her mind), and even George and Fred Weasley were impressed, which was amazing, considering they were the most professional pranksters in the school. The girls called her brave, the Gryffindors even called her heroic, because they knew her original intent was to have Draco fall off his broom rather than their own seeker. And some weird little fourth year named Collard or Craven or something like that had taken her picture and asked for her autograph. 

She was set. She was on top of the world. But the night before detention she took a step off her high horse as she found Hermione in tears in the Gryffindor common room, a pile of letters scattered around her on the floor. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

"I didn't know he was going to make it so hard…" Hermione sniffled, sobbing uncontrollably. She wiped her eye sloppily with the palm of her hand and hit the arm of her chair with a weak fist.

"Who?" Lola was confused. "Is this a love issue?"

Hermione nodded miserably.

"It's not Draco…is it? Or Ron?"

"…no."

"Then who?"

For a while Hermione didn't answer, just took in a few sharp, staggered breaths as the tears continued to pour down her face. Lola pulled up a chair in front of her and waited.

"I don't want to talk about it here…" Hermione said finally.

Lola thought quickly, and then remembered where Hermione's favorite place was. It was late, it was bound to be empty. "Do you want to go to the library?"

"Yeah," Hermione said in a tiny, vulnerable voice. She stood up and scooped the letters into her arms, walking towards the common room door. Lola slowly followed. They walked in silence through the hallways, and the only sounds to be heard were Hermione's occasional sniffles.

The library was indeed devoid of people when the two girls arrived, and Madam Pince was on a last five-minute break before closing. They sat in a far corner near the Restricted Area. 

"So what happened? Tell me from the beginning."

"Well, I was going out with this foreign guy, right…and then the whole truth-or-dare thing with Draco…and so I broke up with him. But he wants me back. Look." Hermione took a tissue out of her pocket and wiped her nose, and then handed the pile of letters to Lola. "He sent these all today. You're going to have to excuse his spelling…he can't write English very well."

Lola took a look at the first one, and almost laughed aloud—

_My Most Darlink Hermoninny,_

_            You cannd jast leave me lak these! I lov you and onlee you, I ahm dezparat fore you too lov agen me! These Draco Malfoy iz not being fore you! I cannd stahnd the thot of withowt you! Pleze say you wil being mine gurlfrind agen! Rite bak too me._

_                                                            I lov you,_

_                                                            Viktor Krum_

She felt so mean for nearly laughing at the letter, and she decided it would be best for her not to read the rest if she wanted to be tactful with Hermione.

            "Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry. What are you going to do? Do you still love him?" Lola put a comforting arm around the girl's shoulders. Hermione had stopped crying, but her eyes were still red and puffy. Her breathing was staggered.

"Well, kind of, but I love Draco more. I just feel…so heartless doing this to poor Viktor. He really did love me. He once said I was the first girl he'd ever felt this way about before. He even had me stay at his house for a month, south of Russia._ I really loved him then…but I haven't seen him since. Draco's just…taken his place…and I feel so horrible knowing he can't stand that."_

            "So you're not going to go back to Viktor, are you?" Lola asked.

            "Well, no, but it's just so hard to tell him that after all of this…" Hermione waved a tired hand at the pile of letters. "He made such an effort to tell me how much he still loved me…and I thought he didn't even care when I broke up with him, because he never wrote me. Turns out, he never wrote me, because he was ashamed that he couldn't spell English well. But when he realized that his not writing me was making distance between us, he threw himself on the line, humiliation and all…just for me…" Hermione broke into tears again. "He really did care! Oh god, I feel like such a horrible person…"

            Lola had no idea what to say to that, but Hermione filled in the silences.

            "He even had pet names for me! I was his little 'luscious nectarine.' His 'sunshine.' Now I'm just his ex!" Hermione bawled into Lola's shoulder and Lola patted her head sympathetically, trying not to crack up. So they sat there, Hermione sobbing, and finally, a while later, Hermione's tears subsided. Lola felt bad almost laughing at the letters, but she tried not show anything concerning them. Hermione abruptly stood up, wiping her eyes and nose. "I think I ought to go finish my work. I'm sorry to have been such a burden on you, Lola, but you were so nice, really. Thank you." She hugged her, and then scooped up her letters and left the library, her head ducked a little embarrassedly.

            Lola yawned, and then a minute after Hermione left, she ambled toward the door. By the casing, she noticed a small piece of folded parchment. 'Someone must have dropped this,' she thought, and opened it to see whose it was. The writing looked familiarly sloppy. She read the last line:

"CAHM BAK TOO ME, MAH LUSHUS NECTAHREEN!!!!!!!!!!"

*           *           *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry, for any of you readers who have been waiting…I know it's been a long time! I've been incredibly busy, like you wouldn't believe, even though for the past two weeks I've been on school vacation. Anyway, how was this chapter? I hope it wasn't too serious or anything. Please let me know, I love to get reviews! Well, hopefully the next installment will come…sooner than this one did, let's just say. I get out of school in two months, so that might be around when I start having time again, even though I might have a job. Anyway, keep it cool, dudes, keep faith in me, for those of you who did, I am going to finish this story! (Twenty more chapters to go, or so)—Nicoli D.


	9. Draco WHO?

Hogwarts Gets Wild!

Machiavella of Kingsport

Chapter 10: Draco _Who?_

            Ron was still seething a week after his fight with Hermione. He couldn't believe her…her and her audacity, that she could just deny that there had been something special between them…and then to snub him by going out with Draco! They were sickening. Not only did he hate Draco Malfoy to begin with, just because he was a stuck up, rich, pretentious bastard, but the fact that Hermione would even _go for someone so immature just made him want to puke._

            They sat together at the Slytherin table during meals and smiled lovingly at each other as though no one else existed…cuddled together in the library…and god, they were always _talking._ How much could they possibly have to talk about, when before they had hated one another? Draco came from a wizarding family, shitloads of money, and parents who believed those without full wizard blood weren't fully human. Hermione came from muggle parents, and didn't even know magic existed until she got her Hogwarts letter five years ago—she believed in the goodness of humanity, the good deeds of the people around her…and that hate was part of being evil, even though she had hated many people. Ron couldn't understand why now, Draco and Hermione were so close. It just pissed him off.

            Ron saw his god-given opportunity only this evening. Lola, who had received four hours' worth of laundry for detention due to her misconduct at the recent quidditch game, would be working with the house elves tonight…he was sitting in the common room at the present moment, when Lola walked in carrying a pile of books. He rose from his chair a little nervously.

            "Hey, Lola. What's up?"

            She smiled congenially and dumped her books unceremoniously on the common room table before the fire, and plopped down into one of the plump armchairs. "Oh, work…what about you?"

            Ron sat down into his chair again. "Well, not much, I was just thinking…" He trailed off. How would he phrase it?

            Lola yawned a little and stretched. "…Yes? And what were you thinking about?"

            He coughed quietly and raised his eyebrows, and shifted uncomfortably for a couple of seconds. "Well, um, you know how Hermione and Draco are going out?"

            "Yeah. It's so weird." She looked out the window, not particularly interested in talking about the subject at hand.

            "Well…I kind of wanted to get back at Draco."

            "Huh. What did he do?"

            Ron's composure failed as he verbally exploded. "He took my woman! _He took Hermione! She was mine, you realize that, don't you? She and I were…we were so close.  I think she loved me! And then Draco, that bastard, he _took_ her from me!"_

            Lola would have laughed but for the fact that it would have been quite tactless of her to do so. She took a while responding. "Are you sure you weren't just under the wrong impression for a long time? You know, about how Hermione felt for you?"

            "No! I'm always right!"

            "Shh, shh, calm down, Weasley." Lola's words had the soothing effect of a mother's cooing to a child. Ron shrank back into his seat and pouted. "I think you still need some time to reconsider your opinion of Draco and Hermione's relationship. Just because it doesn't seem normal to you doesn't mean it isn't normal for them."

            Ron was sulkily silent for a while. "But Draco's just such a prig anyway. I want to get revenge for all the times he's humiliated me."

            Lola chuckled half-heartedly. "Sure. You guys and your rivalries. You guys are so immature sometimes. Well, okay, correct me there; _all of the time. Money isn't everything, you know. And just because he insults your mother a lot doesn't mean you have to lose face and blow up all over him. That's not exactly the most civil thing you could do."_

            "Yeah, so? Listen, Lola—you have detention in the laundry room tonight, don't you?"

            "What of it?"

            "I just want you to do me a little favor, okay? I could do something for you in return, if you want. Compensation, like."

            "Depends on the favor. What do you want me to do?"

            Ron thought it out slowly while she tapped her fingers on the arms of her chair impatiently. "All right…would you just find Draco's nice cloaks in the laundry pile—his will have personal tags on them—and soak them in bleach, long enough to ruin them?"

            Lola sighed exasperatedly. "Oh…fine. What's your collateral?"

            "Uhh…that's a tough one. I don't really have any money, see…"

            "Well, you're still good friends with Harry, right? I mean, you haven't found any reason to hate _him_ yet, have you?"

            "Yeah, we're friends."

            "Well, I like him a lot. I want you to…you know…put in a good word for me."

            "Oh, well, sure. That's fine."

            "It's a deal then." Lola inspected her fingernails briefly, and then abruptly stood up. "I've got more work to do, see you later."

            "Right then. Thanks."

            Draco's morning was not starting off too well; first of all, he had run out of Sleakeazy's hair gel, so his hair was sticking out at odd angles, and second, his robes were a _mess_. Those damn house elves had screwed up and used bleach on them, and so now, they looked like some screwed up version of a reverse cow hide. To make things worse, everyone at the Slytherin breakfast table was jeering at him—he used to be the popular one, but it probably didn't help that he was in love with a Gryffindor and everyone knew it.

            Just when he thought his day couldn't get any worse, a disgruntled and irritable family owl swooped down over his toast and dropped an envelope on the table before him. It was no ordinary envelope; of course, it bore the Malfoy family seal, and Lucius Malfoy's name was printed boldly on the envelope…but the envelope itself was of a distinct crimson color that made Draco's heart sink like a rock in a pond. A howler. And he knew very well what it would be about. Trying unsuccessfully to ignore the jeers and catcalls of his fellow housemates, he took one finger and slit the envelope open—

            "JUST WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, DRACO? IS THIS THE WAY YOU DISGRACE YOUR FORMER FAMILY NAME, YOUR FORMER BLOOD AND YOUR HERITAGE? HOW CAN YOU JUSTIFY YOU TREATMENT OF MISS PARKINSON, A FELLOW SLYTHERIN AND PUREBLOOD? HOW CAN YOU SHAME YOURSELF LIKE THIS? ARE YOU VERMIN LIKE THOSE HORRIBLE WEASLEY TWINS?

            "I CAN'T STAND SUCH UNRULY BEHAVIOR FROM YOU! YOU HAVE EMBARRASSED ME, AND I AM NOW THE LAUGHINGSTOCK OF THE MINISTRY BECAUSE OF YOUR MISCHIEF—AND THAT GRYFFINDOR!! A MUDBLOOD GRYFFINDOR! I HATE YOU, YOU ARE EVERYTHING I RAISED YOU NOT TO BE—I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU, NOT EVEN ON THE DAY I DIE! YOU ARE NO LONGER MY SON—AS OF THIS DAY, YOU ARE DEAD TO ME!"

            There was a deadly silence. Draco was ghostly white. The words were still sinking in with a numb feeling…he had just been disowned. His last name was no longer Malfoy…as quick as that. By then, the raucous laughter from his table had died down to uneasy chuckles and uncomfortable, furtive glances in his direction. No one said anything, and no one would meet his eyes. He looked across the room, stood up, and walked out with as much dignity as he could muster as the howler spontaneously combusted in his pumpkin juice, leaving an acrid smell of ash hanging in the awkward atmosphere.

            Draco's feet dragged as he made his way to the gargoyle that was the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Muttering the password, he slumped inside and leaned against the stone wall as the revolving stairs took him up to the office door. 

            "Come in, Draco," Dumbledore said, before Draco could knock. The door swung open, and Draco plopped into one of the chairs and sat in stony silence.

            There was an awkward pause.

            "Well, Draco, you know why I called you here, right?"

            "Yeah, I guess. But what's there to talk about?" Draco stared dully at the floor and let his mouth hang, his lips slightly parted in a troubled frown.

            "There's a _lot to talk about," he clarified. "You no longer have a place to live outside of Hogwarts; no financial support, or legal guardian, for that matter. Obviously you can live here the remainder of the school year; but you haven't the money now to pay for your last two years, nor would you be allowed to pay, as you are a minor. Have you any idea whom you will turn to?"_

            "No, " Draco mumbled, as though it should have been obvious.

            "There's no one who would take you in? You have no close friends who would be willing to bring you to live with them?"

            Draco gave a short mirthless bark of laughter. "If ever I had the chance, it's gone now. That would have been Pansy, except that now she's sworn to be my enemy until the day I die. Or she dies. Something like that. And Hermione…well…I'm not so sure her parents would like the idea of her boyfriend living under the same roof, you know? It's kind of problematic, like that."

            "Well, you haven't asked."

            "Come on! They don't even know who I am right now!" Draco gestured emphatically and glared at Dumbledore with disgust.

            "Have you considered one of your teachers? Professor Snape, as you well know, regards you almost like family."

            "Yeah…well, maybe I'm not willing to live with him and that Trelawney bat."

            "Excuse me?"

            "Sorry…_Professor Trelawney." Draco mumbled his apology begrudgingly._

            Dumbledore sighed heavily, and stared at Draco through his half-moon spectacles. For a while no one said anything, until: "It seems, then, that you are in a bit of a bind. Either you must forget your differences with some people, or you have to…well, beyond that, I must truthfully say that I do not know. I will talk to you soon if I see another alternative. You may leave, mister Malfoy…or I guess that's not your name anymore, is it? …Who are you?"

            Draco's eyes widened with surprise at Dumbledore's question. He didn't know, either. Who was he? Draco…was Draco a Slytherin? A descendant of a family of dark wizards? Or was he someone new, now that he had begun to change inside? This was a chance for him to recreate himself…but as to whom he would become, he hadn't yet found the answers. Treading slowly and carefully, he made his way to the door and within seconds found himself turning back. "Sir, may I ask something?"

            "You just did, Draco."

            "Whatever. Can I try on that sorting hat of yours?"

            Dumbledore considered the youth for a moment before giving him a small, sad smile. "I find that it hardly ever changes its mind about those it has already sorted; but if you believe it will give you any answers you need, by all means—have another go."

            Draco hesitantly reached for the hat, and then, taking a breath, jammed it onto his head. He stood there, keeping his face absolutely blank as he listened intently. After a few moments, during which Dumbledore heard nothing, Draco took the hat off slowly and placed it back on its stool.

            "Did you learn anything?"

            Draco's face was deadpan. "Maybe." He whirled around, his mottled and splotched robes billowing out behind him as he disappeared into the revolving stairwell.

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N: I know this was a shorter chapter than usual, and also a much more serious one in content; but it would only fit in the context…in my mind this was all bound to happen. So please, no flames, just your more gently censored opinions…hehe. Next few chapters should be quite entertaining, though, I promise. I'll get around to them sometime soon I hope; until then, enjoy, and do drop me a line! --Nicoli


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